#they were just built for this format idk

[number1greedlingfan]

autism be damned i can cook

[jemmo]

anime adachi and kurosawa are making out in a storage room at the office!!!! im highkey losing my mind!!!!!!

[vxsellie]

TO WASH ASHORE - E.W

pairing : pirate!ellie williams x siren!reader synopsis : ellie wakes on a remote island, delirious and hallucinating as she spots a sea creature watching her from in the sea, your sharp eyes tracing her every movement. already deeming herself to be losing her sanity, ellie sees no harm in calling you over. a/n : bare w me here guys idk what im doing, this idea is so random but im trying to do it justice at least ! MCD WARNING BTW wc : 4.3k

ellie williams has lived a life of barbarity and brutality, living among pirates as a woman in disguise. of course, nobody would allow a woman aboard a ship, not to even mention the ship of a notoriously infamous pirate renown for his perfection and flawlessness. so, her fellow crew members know her as eli. a man.

she'd been sailing in disguise for nigh a year now, growing close with the pirates and getting to know life at sea. she's even built quite a reputation for herself ⎯ elijah williams, cruel and callous. captain miller's golden boy.

"avast ye!" a barrelman calls out from the crow's nest.

those on deck turn their attention toward the man. ellie halts her work and lifts her head up toward where he sits, putting a hand to her forehead to block the sun from her eyes.

one of the gunners climbs the shrouds toward the barrelman, scaling the lines swiftly. he pauses when he reaches the top, the two men conversing for a short moment before the barrelman passes the gunner his spyglass. the gunner's eyes widen and he begins talking frantically to the barrelman, both unsure on what to do. ellie watches the exchange from the deck, highly invested in what got the men so worked up.

she hears footsteps approach her from behind and she turns around to face whoever it is that comes to her. captain miller. she instantly straightens her back, the quintessence of respect for the man of authority.

he waves a hand at her, "oh relax, williams. you haven't gotta act so on edge all the time."

"easy for you to say." she scoffs, deepening her voice an octave. "you ain't gotta change to be accepted. you're the captain, you can do whatever you damn well please 'n nobody can give you shit."

"i suppose," he agrees. he then turns the topic around, peering up at the men atop the crows nest. "what're they doin' up there?"

ellie shrugs, "i haven't a clue. seems troublesome, though."

miller hums in acknowledgment, staring up at the two men who grow more and more frantic with each passing second. they hand the spyglass to one another back and forth, taking turns looking through it and exclaiming things of nervosity. ellie follows their gazes, turning toward where they aim the glass.

there, in the distance, she can see the formation of clouds beginning to fester along the horizon. its barely noticeable from her place on the deck unless one knows what to look for. but, if she were up high, the sight of such a storm would likely terrify her.

"a storm." ellie says.

miller turns to look at her, a brow raised. "come again?"

"that's what they're lookin' at." she explains, meeting his gaze with her brow knitted. "a storm is brewin' out there and we're heading directly into it."

miller doesn't need any proof of this, believing ellie without hesitation. and, within mere minutes, of her declaration, he's appointed roles and tasks to each of the two hundred crew members aboard. gunners are tasked with moving the ballast and heavy barrels into the hull; the pilot is given a stern talking-to on how best to handle this situation; the riggers are told what to do and which lines to pull.

ellie, being the quartermaster, is tasked with keeping the crew at bay. miller tells her she needs to keep them calm and level-headed, give them hope and whatnot. she nods, hurrying to do just that.

as they near the looming clouds, the sea grows angered. waves come up over the taffrails, soaking into the floor of the deck. the winds pick up, forcing the riggers into action. she alternates between people, assuring them that they're doing well and they'll make it through this. however, as she watches the storm grow nearer, she isn't quite so sure of that herself.

she sees a group of brutes, standing around without a role yet. she approaches them with her hands on her hips and a hardened expression on her face. "the fuck are you doin'!? batten down the hatches!" she orders. instantly, the men rush into action, tying things down and putting things away for the coming weather.

ellie's heart beats frantically in her chest as rainfall begins to drench her. she pulls her hat farther over her face, making sure that her hair is all tucked away and her coat remains loose.

the sea grows in her rage, throwing massive waves over the bow. crew members begin to lose faith, their minds descending into despair. ellie tries to keep them at bay for the most part, but it's fruitless. their hopelessness is no longer malleable. she curses under her breath, knowing exactly why miller appointed her this role ⎯ if the pirates lose hope, they won't work as efficiently at their jobs. even if wreckage is inevitable, they'd at least have a chance.

she glances around, the gunners breathing quick as they shakily trek back and forth. the riggers grow fatigued in their mission of manning the sails, the pilot grips the wheel tightly but not confident enough. the ship teeters on the waves, thrashing around with each one.

"fuck," ellie mutters, wiping salt water from her eyes as she rushes to the helm. she ascends the stairs and approaches the pilot with as kind as gaze as she can muster whilst so irritated. "okay listen," she says, causing the pilot to turn to her with wide eyes.

"elijah?" the pilot questions, "what're ya doin' up here? go help the others."

"won't be able t' help the others if ya crash the ship." she points out. "move, let me steer."

the pilot appears reluctant, but eventually gives in and moves. ellie takes the wheel, flexing her fingers against the wooden material. the feel of the wheel in her hands is comforting, reminding her of how she first began as a pirate ⎯ a small pilot who blended into the background for months.

she tips her head at the pilot, wondering why the hell he's still standing there. "go help the gunners, tar."

"oh, uh⎯" he nods quickly, "yes, sir!"

with that, he scurries off to assist those in need. ellie watches from the helm as he bustles about, seeking out those who need an extra hand. once she's sure he's doing as he was told, she averts her attention back to the task at hand.

the waves are growing by the second, more and more water taken over the bow. a few of the swabbies dumping buckets of seawater overboard. she spins the wheel, hard. the ship swerves to the right, hitting the next comber at an angle. a few of the pirates stagger on their feet or fall over, but nobody falls overboard so ellie counts that as a win.

her change in angle allows the ship to take in far less water. the crew members will need to embrace their sea legs a bit more, but overall the damage is now far less. a few of the pirates whip their head in her direction, knowing their previous pilot would never have the balls to whip the wheel so hard. when they see ellie "elijah" at the helm, many of them seem relieved, knowing she's a great pilot. if anybody can aid them in survival, its her.

this goes on a few more times, yanking the wheel hard to the side as to avoid water filling the deck. but as time progresses and the rain refuses to die down, the amount of overtake grows unavoidable. by the fifth wave, the swabbies are forced to resume their buckets. by the eighth, more pirates rush to their aid.

ellie grits her teeth, mentally scolding herself for having not done more despite it being nigh impossible to avoid water overtake. she grips the wheel tightly, tossing the wheel to the side as the ship lurches in that direction. they hit the wave inelegantly, one of the riggers falling from a shroud and into the water with a deafening splash. she ignores it, unable to part her mind from the task at hand.

she hears footsteps bound up the stairs of the helm, rushing to her. she sideglances in their direction, not surprised to see captain miller approaching her.

"what're our chances?" he asks her, bracing a hand on the rail of the helm that overlooks the deck, having to grip onto it to avoid toppling over.

"of survival?" she asks, turning away from him and toward the next wave that rolls in their direction. "not lookin' too good, i'll tell ya that."

"give me a precent."

"about 18." she says with a sigh, the ship overtaking a huge amount of water from the bow, two swabbies getting washed away with the wave. she forces herself not to think about their deaths, tightening her grip on the wheel until her knuckles turn white.

"fuck that." miller declares. "we ain't dyin' out here."

"don't have much of a choice, i'm afraid." ellie tells him, yanking hard to the left, the wheel spinning out of control for a split second as the water catches control of the rudder. she fumbles to regain reign over it. once she does, her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as she shoots miller a look. "i'm doin' everything i can, but i can't promise it'll be enough. this storm ain't relenting."

he narrows his eyes at her. "what's your name, williams?"

"excuse me?" she questions, momentarily caught off-guard.

"ya deem me fool, do ya?" he questions. "i know you're a woman. if we're all dyin' anyway, at least tell me your real name. you should be able to tell someone before your life ends."

"ellie." her chest feels heavy as she speaks her actual name for the first time in a year, throat feeling tight with the foreign sound of it on her tongue. she blinks water out of her eyes and she tells herself it's rain, though she's not entirely sure.

"well," miller says softly, nigh inaudible over the heavy rainfall pattering loudly against the sea around them, "it's nice t' meet ya, ellie williams."

she turns her head to face him, brow knitting. their eyes meet and she gives him a gentle smile, eternally grateful for his acceptance of her despite her year-long life of lies. apparently, that split moment of distraction is all it took for the storm to hit. while ellie's distracted by the unexpected turn of events miller voices, mother nature decides to attack while her guard is down.

a huge wave swells over the bow, water yanking the ship forward into the sea. ellie yelps as the wheel yanks from her hand, rudder being tugged by the sudden change. as the bow goes down under the surface, the stern goes up in the air. ellie's feet slip out from under her, her backside slamming against the vertical deck. miller's do the same.

as ellie slides downward toward the water below them, she feels a hand grab her by the wrist. she looks up, breathing hard. miller is still holding tightly onto the railing with his right hand, his left now holding ellie's entire weight.

the ship is vertically positioned, the bow slowly sinking into the aggravated sea as the stern is high in the air, teetering unnaturally.

she stares up at miller with wide eyes, her mind reeling at the sudden change in atmosphere. she'd told them they were likely to die, but she hadn't actually been ready to face death straight-on. the feel of powerlessness licks up her spine with a cold touch of dread and despair.

"ellie!" miller shouts, her attention snapping up to him. "i ain't lettin' ya go! don't lose⎯"

his words are cut off by a barrel coming down from the helm and hitting him in the head. the heavy weight of the wood knocks him out cold, his fingers going slack on the railing. they both instantly fall from the stern. she screams as she falls, sound interrupted as her body collides with the ocean. her throat burns, eyes stinging as she forces them to open in the water.

she looks around under the surface, ignoring the agonizing sting in her retinas. she's surrounded by wood and debris and fallen pirates. buts she's looking for one in particular. joel miller.

he's nowhere to be seen.

her heartbeat picks up, her lungs contracting with lack of oxygen. her mind begins to swim, unable to comprehend all that she's lost within a mere few seconds. she feels herself begin to sink as her eyes go dark, the weight of her body being dragged down by the merciless pull of gravitation.

she shuts her eyes, allowing the earth to pull her under the water and towards its core. consciousness plays with her, pulling her in and out of it. not a single coherent thought runs through her mind as she sinks down, down, down,

just as she comes to terms with death, shaking its hand and accepting its sudden control over her, something else grabs her other hand. something soft, a gentle caress of fingers wrapping around her wrist. life.

ellie's chest constricts as she shoots up, the feel of water in her lungs as she gags on it. the feel of pain welcomes her before the feel of relief does. her throat burns, her body is weak, her eyes sting. everything aches so very agonizingly that nothing else really matters to her.

she rolls over, getting on her hands and knees as she coughs and hacks water from deep within her chest. once she manages to level out her breathing enough to form an intelligible though, she realizes what she's on.

her fingers dig into soft sand, the sediment wedging under her nails. she lifts her head, eyes wide in shock. she's on an island, tiny enough she can see right across to the water on the other side. she looks around some more, taking in the scarce amount of shrub and grass.

she huffs out a laugh, disbelief and delirium encircling the sound as it slips past her split lips. the light chuckle soon turns into boisterous cackling, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes she's alive. she's breathing, feeling, living.

through blurred vision, she grazes her eyes across the island, once again taking in the beautiful sight of it. she leans back on her knees, sitting on her folded feet. here gaze suddenly snags on something lying a few feet from her. a body. she narrows her eyes, praying that this island isn't inhabited. but when she recognizes the shape of it, she instantly rushes to its side.

captain miller. joel.

she crouches beside him, turning him onto his backside. she leans down, pressing an ear to his mouth, desperation filling her up as she listens for any sign of life. then she hears it. breathing.

it's croaky and crackled, but breathing nonetheless. she straightens. he's alive. once he wakes, he'll cough a bit and be in indescribable pain, but he's alive. she moves him onto his side to avoid him choking on his own saliva, tipping his head into the sand a bit.

her mind is moving at a million thoughts per second, ellie can hardly keep up with her own brain. she leans back, staring at joel's head as she breathes heavily, trying to grasp what exactly has happened. only an hour ago, she was⎯ wait. how long ago was that? for all she knows it may have been days since the shipwreck. it may have been months. she looks at the sky, hoping to be able to tell time by it somehow.

the sky is clear, blue and brilliant without a cloud in sight. but her clothes are still wet and so are joel's. plus, she isn't starving to death yet, so she decides it's only been a few hours.

her mind races, suddenly stuttering on one thought in particular: who the fuck got them out of the water?

if it were another crew member, they'd be on the island with her and joel. if it were another ship crew, they'd be dead before they could reach the depth of which she'd sank by then.

she traces her eyes along the horizon regardless, hoping she might see a ship or something to point toward who's responsible for this. that's when she sees you.

her brows raise at the sight of a girl so far out in the surf, water up to your shoulders. your hair is wet, clinging to your neck and forehead. you aren't wearing a top, bare shoulders peeking from the surface.

ellie squints her eyes, wondering if she's going crazy or not. the heat is getting to her, clinging to the wet clothes that soak her skin. her hat is missing, auburn hair now askew atop her head. she puts a hand to her hairline, shielding sun from sight. sure enough, there you remain.

gorgeous and luminary in your presence, out there like a beacon of hope amid chaos. water droplets run down your face, sparking like fragmented glass across your skin.

"hey!" she calls out, unable to stop herself. "c'mere!"

you remain in place for a long moment, tilting your head at her slightly. she worries, for a second, whether you truly were imagined purely out of her mind. honestly, how could someone so beautiful be out here right now? in the middle of the ocean. just standing there. it's impossible.

just as doubt traces up her spine, you begin forward.

your movements are languid, almost like you're made of water yourself. the tangible embodiment of the sea, beautiful and mysterious just like the ocean. ellie finds herself unable to look away, a wordless spell cast to immobilize her.

you continue forward, bare chest veiled by your long wet hair. like a fish on a hook, ellie crawls toward you. her jaw is slackened, eyes sparkling. you keep most your body in the water as you near her, lower waist never breaking the surface. ellie doesn't give much thought to it, to enamored by the sight of you.

you stop at the waterline, lying on your stomach. you bury your elbows in the sand, resting your chin on the palms of your hands. ellie stops right in front of your, her eyes wide as they search your face.

"...beautiful..," is all ellie is capable of muttering. you tilt your head at her, slow and steady. she continues to stare at you, awe-struck. the smallest smile manages to tug at your lips and ellie finds her heart speeding at the mere sight of it. you shut your eyes, grinning at her.

"thank you." you say.

ellie's ears perk at the sound. your voice is music, tone a melody. she can't help but yearn for it to be played on loop. over and over until she takes her final breath.

"y-you⎯" words feel foreign in her mouth, nothing coming out correctly. she shakes her head, touches of crimson staining her cheeks. she blinks a few times as she refocuses on your face, taking in every feature that adorns it. "you're⎯"

"what?" you croon, a gentle hum from the back of your neck. she finds herself leaning in at the soft sound, needing to be closer. needing to hear you better. your eyes sparkle at the sight of her desperation, scooting farther back ever so slightly. "i'm what?"

a breath escapes her lips as she stares. "you're beautiful."

"mm," you sound, blinking at her slow and seductive. she falls for it. of course she does, they all do. that's your curse.

"how⎯" she blinks down at the sight of you in the water, having emerged from the surf all on your own. "how'd you⎯"

you tilt your head again, though this time for another reason. you do it as to move it out of her line of sight, allowing her eyes to rest on the tail that grows from your hips. it's about five feet in length, blue and shiny. the scales catch the light, glittering like magic. the fins are translucent, filtering sunlight through the thin material.

she stares at it, unable to tear her eyes away. whether that be to delirium or adoration, you're unsure. so is she.

"i saved you," you mutter, drawing her gaze back to your face. your brows are furrowed, sincerity knitting them with a thin thread of deception. she blinks, the threads blurring together into a gentle curiosity. she leans in again. you lean back. the palms of her hands are now in the water, encircling her wrists with rocking waves against the shore. she continues to crawl toward you. out of mere pity, you refrain from easing back more. it'd be too easy that way ⎯ killing a starved pirate who's been marooned.

"a-and joel?" she blinks, completely unaware of your moral dilemma. she's equally unaware of the way you had been slowly easing into the water. somehow, they never seem to feel the cool liquid around them.

"yes." you confirm, narrowing your eyes at the girl and her soaked form. "yes, i saved your old captain as well."

she exhales, enamored by the information. you take this time to soak in the sight of her. her hair is damp, short auburn strands clinging to her face and neck. her thin white linen shirt is clad against her torso and chest, buttons undone at the top. her heavy brown coat hangs off of her, clearly having been made for a man. her black jeans are baggy, also meant for a male. as are her oversized boots.

"thank you, i⎯" she stammers, licking her lips in thought. "i-i don't know how to⎯"

"hush," you whisper, voice tangling with the waves crashing against the sand. the melody is the same, sediment washing from the shore as ellie does. you lift your hands, cradling her face with cold, wet fingertips. she leans into the touch, her eyes lidded and pupils blown. your gaze softens, "you needn't thank me, love."

"but⎯"

"shh," you place the pad of your thumb on her lips, silencing her. your eyes drop to her mouth, tracing your finger along her bottom lip. she parts them, breath hitching. "i saved you because i was unable to bare the sight of your death."

she doesn't respond, her mind jumbled. you continue, pulling her deeper into the water as she crawls toward you.

"so lovely, so undeserving," you whisper, the water now at her knees, forcing her to stand in the water with you. your hands remain on her face, thumb running along the pink skin of her mouth. she breathes heavily, desperate for more, completely under your alluring spell of seduction.

"closer," she mumbles, likely unaware she'd even uttered the word.

you oblige, the water now at your waists. your tail treads water as she legs continue to inch toward you. she moves forward, never stopping, never thinking, never able to. you stop, allowing to to ease closer. she does.

she braces her hands on your hips, fingers caressing the scales with gentility. so different from anything else you'd experienced. normally, when you seduce sailors, they're lustful and desperate and rough. she, however, is kind. curious wonder strikes her eyes, flecks of love already catching her pale green irises. they remind you of sea grass.

you decide to offer her a kindness before the inevitable death that's to overcome her.

you lean in, the waves crashing at your chests, pushing your toward her. you listen, the ocean being your religion, your beacon of a deity. she does the same, obviously. you continue to cradle her face as she continues to encircle your hips, delicacy lacing her every movement.

you press your lips to hers, your bewitched mind incapable of feeling anything aside from an insatiable hunger for her death. ellie, on the other hand, is seeing stars from the mere feel of her mouth on yours. the way your lips move with such calculated precision, the way your teeth nip at the lip you'd been tracing. it's intoxicating. the taste of you is more addictive than any glass of rum she'd ever had.

sea salt and passion line your lips, salty with its passion. she leans in as your lean away, careful to keep your lips connected the whole way down. while ellie is practically unraveling at the seams, you ease into the water.

the trick here, you've learned, is to kiss your victim. that way, they're already holding their breaths with their eyes closed. you can ease them into the water without so much as a fight.

unfortunately for her, ellie is no different.

she follows your every movement, unaware of how the ocean begins to rise. the way the water begins to clog her ears. you drag her down, filling her lungs with your own tainted oxygen that you're not in need of.

you're now far past the surface, ellie continuing to kiss you despite the way her hands go slack around your waist and her breath struggles to maintain itself. you hate the knowledge of knowing you'd killed such a beautiful soul. but, more than that, you love the taste of her death.

the way death holds her hand all the way down; the way her skin turns to an icy blue that mocks your tail; the way her mouth goes slack against yours; the way her eyes are already closed; the way her lungs constrict.

she dies without a fight, completely uncharacteristic for a woman who'd fought her whole life. for a woman who went disguised as a man for so many years, all of her walls were let down for you ⎯ a mysterious creature of the sea who's name she hadn't even bothered to learn.

and as she does, her last thoughts are of your face and the sound of your voice. she dies with a soft contentment in knowing you were what held her as she was put to an eternal slumber.

if her death could be something of benefit to you, she considers it to have been worth it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist : @luvsturniolo @zzombiegirl

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 fic taglist : @juptology @thefirstromantics @flutterdasher @dinakisser

[headspace-hotel]

I was talking about editing a bunch of wikipedia pages to talk about native americans and farmer family friend was like

"yeah, it's like when we went to Turkey and we visited these historical museums, and the museums acted like the history of the country began when the Ottomans took over. The Hagia Sophia was built in what, 500 AD? And there are Roman ruins everywhere but the 'history' only begins in the 1400s. In this book I'm reading about the history of agriculture in Kentucky the author doesn't even discuss Native Americans before Europeans came. It's a huge oversight."

I've consciously tried to unlearn that shit so many times why does it STILL unlock little doors in my brain when I learn examples of how deeply arbitrary the boundaries of what we see as "history" are.

He also talked about how we have this idea of cave men being our ancestors because the things left by them in caves were more permanent, whereas the structures and things people built above ground would have decayed.

...I really do think about that a lot. How we have evidence of the civilizations that built things out of stone, while civilizations that used materials that biodegraded wouldn't have left as much evidence.

Come to think of it, some of the best known ancient civilizations did live in deserts. But they had contemporaries (like Punt, which we now know was in Ethiopia iirc...)

Farmer family friend also has been to Arizona (Might have been New Mexico? Idk.) and saw these Indigenous rock carvings he told me about that I never stopped thinking about. According to him, there's a rock face that has pictographs carved into it showing the steps of how to plant and harvest corn. "Very simple," he said, "like a tutorial."

And the crazy thing is. There's this nearby rock formation that casts a shadow on the rock face. And throughout the year, as the position of the sun changes, the shadow points to the step in the corn growing tutorial you're supposed to be doing at that time of year.

...I swear this guy has me come over just so he can have someone to talk to while he's doing mind numbing manual labor.

[iuspired]

confessions - suna rintarou

about: DEFINITELY ooc but we don’t talk about that 😙 just you nd ur bsf sunarin catching up as per usual with tea to spill from the past 😝 we love to see it!

a/n: i wrote this awhile ago actually🫣 im fully done w finals………. idk what to think im so scared for the future. also trying diff formats and will actually work on my navi post during the summer so bare w me lol. anyways thank u for all the love on my last post mwahhh <3

“you know i used to have a crush on you?” you say, in between bites of your food.

you and your childhood best friend, suna rintarou, are at your promised monthly hangout, which ended up only being every couple months because your universities were far away from each other, so you both settled to meet up whenever your breaks overlapped. but it didn’t matter to you either way because you texted each other almost every other day. whether it was a tiktok link or an 8 ball.

“you used to what?” he replies, mouth agape as he sets his chopsticks down.

“i mean, it wasn’t a huge crush,” you say, … “maybe i was gaslighting myself but we were really close back then y’know?”

“oh? why didn’t you ask me out then?”

“mmm not sure. i guess..” you think about it. it was probably because starting high school, girls were all over him. it was also probably because those same girls would come up to you. passive aggressively ask if you were his girlfriend. you’d reply with a lighthearted laugh, “noo! we’re just close friends. he’s all yours if you want him.” maybe it was because he wouldn’t reciprocate any of the interest and love he received. he always replied, saying something along the lines of ‘oh i’m focusing on school” or just a simple, “i’m not interested”

it was mostly though, because you thought he’d reject you if you initiated something. and not wanting to ruin the relationship you had already built throughout the years, you suppress your feelings.

“you guess?”

“fear of rejection?” you laugh nervously.

“you think i would’ve rejected you?” he asks. he tilts his head, raising his eyebrows, giving you a look as if you were supposed to know.

“you had no interest for anyone so… i mean. i-” you stammer. fuck, why did i even bring this up?!

“well, believe it or not, i too, had a crush on my bestfriend.”

and just like that, you almost spit out your drink. “sorry, you- you liked me?”

“and that’s so surprising because?” he questions.

he really cannot wrap his head around this, huh. “you turned everyone and their mother down? mr. i’m too focused on school and i’m not interested? i could only assume that i was not wanted.”

“but did i ever directly say that to you?”

“no, but you wouldn’t need to. i listened when you rejected their advances, i can take a hint y’know.”

he sighed. “if you had asked me out back then, my answer would be different.”

“really?” you ask.

“really.”

you raise your eyebrows as you sip your drink.

“don’t believe me? you can try me now.” he smirks, flashing the smile you had fallen for back then, and you almost fold right then and there. though despite his confident demeanor, the slight rosy tint on his cheeks gives his nervousness away.

“oh? it’s almost as if you want me to ask you out.”

he playfully rolls his eyes. “okay, so maybe i do, but only if you want to..”

you do your best to suppress a smile as your cheeks turn into the same rosy color.

“here goes. ahem.. i uh-” your mind goes blank.

“wait so.. how do you ask someone out?”

“well, i’ve never asked someone out before because they always ask me” he winks.

you playfully roll your eyes.

“don’t overthink it. it’s just me right?”

you almost forgot. it’s just rin. the same rin who’s always there for you. but this is different.

“right.. i say this in almost all your birthday cards but you’re truly my rock in life, and i reaally want to be yours, and maybe more so.. may i be your girlfriend, suna rintarou?”

“well, if you insist i guess,” he shrugs.

“wooooww.. i see how it is” you say, crossing your arms teasingly.

“r-rin..” he catches you off-guard as he takes your hand in his.

“yeess?” he grins.

you remove your hands, immediately missing the warmth from his hands.

“first date jitters?” he chuckles.

“this is our first date?”

“technically, i guess, but-“

“no way this is our official first date. i’m wearing sweats!” you exclaim, looking down at what you’re wearing.

“i don’t see an issue, you always look pretty in anything you wear.”

“th- thanks,” you blurt out. well that’s new.

but it’s something you could deeefinitely get used to.

[rapturously]

Idk exactly what to ask for, but I have an ✨idea✨

Dwayne who seemingly has a penchant for choking his SO. He just loves the little whimpers and moans they make, and the way they squirm.

Really basic, ik 💀. You can take this and run, or simply enjoy this thought with me, but I wanted to share 🥰

moving in stereo.

( dwayne x fem!reader. )

➾ pairing ; dwayne x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.9K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), making out, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), bloodplay (he’s a vampire), breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, scratching, breeding kink, scent kink, p in v sex, missionary position, rough sex, begging, unprotected sex, mating press (a little bit), choking, bruising/marking, dwayne is hot

author’s note: i am so obsessed with him, it’s not even funny ngl :’) also, I have a couple of other fics/drabbles that I’ll probably post tonight too, I’m definitely feeling very inspired! If you haven’t voted on my poll, please do so! thank you guys sm for your continued love & support !! ❤️

Beads of blood filled your mouth as you absentmindedly chewed at the skin of your cheek, flesh taut between your back molars — you hadn’t intended to bite down as hard as you did. A singular glance at Dwayne’s hands had contorted into shameless ogling, smitten hues discreetly flickering over the veins and smudges of grayish grease coating his fingers.

He had a way with machinery that transcended you — he often claimed that it was simply natural instinct, but your running theory was something buried in his past life. Dwayne was known for his stoicism and quiet demeanor, neglecting to educate you on his background.

It must’ve been a life of hard work — otherwise, his hands wouldn’t have appeared so rough and calloused. They weren’t smooth and spindly like Marko’s, or pretty like Paul’s. They were taut and thick, dexterous and built for destruction, if he let it.

Hands that had held you many times before, touched you in ways that you longed to feel again. A shudder rolled down your spine as you daydreamed, mind floating into a fantastical haze of lascivious thoughts. If it weren’t for the presence of the other boys, a tendril of drool might’ve leaked from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Paul’s agitated groan reverberated throughout the cavern as he crouched beside his boombox, slapping a palm against the top of the speaker, as if that would cure all ailments. His brows furrowed together, lip curled in annoyance as he knocked his hand against the machine a second time — for good measure.

“You’ll ruin it if you keep it up.” Dwayne’s monotonous remark echoed from the opposite side of the lobby. He was entrenched in repairing his motorcycle after it had gotten vandalized by a Surf-Nazi who didn’t live to tell the tale. Paul’s beloved stereo was the least of his concerns.

“How are we gonna listen to Alice?” A begrudging sigh escaped Paul, whose theatrics weren’t out of the ordinary. He huffed, falling in a dramatic heap along the edge of the dilapidated fountain. “Can’t you fix it, Dwayne?” He asked, peering toward his brother, who seemed entirely uninterested.

Silence filled the chasm between them, prompting you to stifle a smile. Dwayne didn’t enjoy being bothered whenever he was working on a project — he was always one to see it through until the very end.

David and Marko emerged from their abysmal resting place. Once the sun disappeared behind the ocean and dusk consumed dawn, the boys became wildly active. “Paul,” David’s voice carried, always domineering without even trying. “Let’s go.”

Disappointed in the lack of closure for his treasured boombox, Paul relented, rolling off of the stone bannister with an exaggerated sigh. He ruffled your hair in passing, and smacked Dwayne on the way out, who didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He simply exhaled — you could sense the twinge of irritation in his sigh alone.

Paul snickered, hopping up the ledge alongside David and Marko. “See you later, bud.” He sneered, waving at you as he departed with his brothers. Once the trio slunk away into the moonlight, it left you and Dwayne by yourselves in the cave.

You could’ve watched Dwayne work for hours, captivated by the way he dismantled the machinery, handling the finer pieces with nimble digits. He was wrist-deep in the grease-laden guts of his motorcycle, surrounded by a myriad of scrap and parts. His dark brows were furrowed together in stark concentration.

Intrigued, you abandoned your perch — a rickety, velvet-cushioned chair that had come with the hotel’s ancient wreckage. Paul’s stereo was sitting along the ledge, awaiting a tune-up that you knew Dwayne would inevitably provide. You sat down, inspecting it for any damage — it looked unharmed, on the outside.

“Do you think it was a user error sort of thing?” A burst of laughter escaped you as you opened up the hatch for the cassette tapes, noticing a rather banged-up copy of Alice Cooper’s Constrictor from ‘86. It was a good choice — you had to commend Paul’s taste in music.

Dwayne’s soft, bemused huff was all you needed to hear, prompting you to smile. You never mistook his tranquil, halcyon demeanor as indifference — he was a man of very few words. Even his temper wasn’t violent or tempestuous, like that of Marko or David. His placidity in most things was what drew you to him in the first place.

Being a human amongst a den of rancorous vampires wasn’t your intention, but you were happy — happiest with Dwayne, above all. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, not that it was a lengthy list. You idly fiddled with some of the switches on the boombox, removing and reinserting the cassette before closing it up.

Much to your chagrin, the stereo didn’t work — maybe it wasn’t Paul’s imagination after all. You gently nudged it back along the ledge, abandoning it for now. “How come you didn’t go with the others?” You inquired, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heel of your boot against the dusty stone.

There was a slight shift in his body language — a mere shrug of his broad shoulders, accompanied by the noises of metal clanging, gears twisting, and then he grunted. “I’m not looking for dinner.” Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. He was in the midst of replacing the engine on his bike, placing the damaged part aside, hands stained in dark ichor.

With a soft hum, you pushed yourself off of the ledge, wandering over toward Dwayne’s scrapyard — a rather cluttered corner of the cave that acted as a makeshift garage. You sat along one of the flat outcroppings of rock, opting to watch him fix up his motorcycle. It would intrigue you more than messing with the boombox ever would.

His pearlescent teeth clenched around a wrench, clutched between his maw as he focused on putting the new engine back in. There was a quiet appreciation that he held for you — you were always respectful of his hobbies, if this even counted as one. Dark eyes flickered toward you, sitting there in your billowing sundress like some statuesque angel.

Dwayne appraised you in his usual silence, eyes carefully raking along your physique, as if he were undressing you through gaze alone. His jaw tensed, a fire beginning to spark within his chest, threatening to spread like an encroaching wildfire the longer he ogled you.

Sundresses were a hot commodity — and they never lasted, either. Dwayne made sure of it, and once he got his hands on you, that pretty fabric shielding you from him would cease to exist. He made it up to you with the gift of another, but rest assured, it would be shortlived.

It was a mutual feeling, the silent staring. His keen hues settled along the supple curves hiding just beneath that thin veil of fabric while you were captivated by the visual feast of strong, capable hands and taut forearms. You folded your hands within your lap, beginning to absentmindedly chew at your inner cheek again.

Your scent wafted throughout the short distance between the both of you, heavy with hints of your favorite perfume, a saccharine concoction that Dwayne had grown accustomed to. He loved your smell — it was unique to you, invading his senses as he continued his work.

Those strong, muscled hands of his were buried in the underbelly of the motorcycle, carefully placing the new engine back inside. He began to fasten it all into place, removing the wrench from his mouth, quickly fixing it all up with a series of bolts, screws, and metallic plates.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” Dwayne was, oddly enough, the one to shatter the comfortable silence between the both of you. He prided himself on playing mechanic — his ability to handle such equipment and repair it was rather renowned. Once he was satisfied with the job, he sat back, peering toward you.

Warmth oozed from those earthen-brown hues of his, coupled with a subtle adoration that only he possessed for you. Your smile only served to further it, the only thing to make his dead heart pump to life again.

“I’d like that,” You mused, canting your head to one side. “I think you should fix Paul’s stereo, too.” Even if Dwayne had brushed him off before, he would fix it and have it ready for him whenever he came back. It was the right thing to do, anyway.

Dwayne huffed, lips twitching into a threadbare smile, wrought with traces of amusement. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t need to. He wiped his hands off along the crimson cloth he carried in his back pocket, ridding his hands of engine grease and oil.

He stood, filling in his full height as he bent down to give you a kiss, hand carding through the back of your skull. It never failed to make you shudder, haplessly squeezing your thighs together as you reached for his forearm. Powerful, taut muscle flexed underneath your fingertips, and his kiss briefly intensified before he withdrew.

That familiar aching sensation flickered to life between your legs, a dull arousal pooling within your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, beg for another kiss, but Dwayne was already over to the stereo, inspecting it for any damage it might’ve had.

For Dwayne, your mind was exceptionally loud — he could read your thoughts, hear them screaming from afar, which he happened to smile at from where he stood. The feeling was mutual, but he wanted to make you stew in it for a little while — it heightened the experience.

As he dismantled the stereo, you decided to go elsewhere — to Paul’s nest, which wasn’t the brightest idea, but he had an impressive collection of cassette tapes. You began climbing toward the rocky slope that led off into alcoves, using some of the ropes hanging about to pull yourself up.

“Where are you going?” Dwayne asked, seemingly finding the source of the boombox’s disarray — there were pieces of tape stuck in the machine.

“To see what Paul has to listen to,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “It’s the least that he can do for you since you fixed it. We should go listen to music.” Truthfully, Dwayne owned that stupid stereo just as much as Paul did — joint custody, you’d called it.

Hawkish, dark hues drank you in from afar, and Dwayne decided that he’d indulge himself in your wishes, picking up the boombox by the bottom. The handle had been broken off long ago — courtesy of Paul, once again. He simply trailed behind you, briefly pressing his hand against the small of your back when you made it up the incline, keeping you steady.

Paul’s nest was notoriously cluttered — in a very fascinating and macabre manner. It was littered in trinkets, things he’d taken from people he fed from, bones and all, or general thievary. The boys were all like this, but not to Paul’s level.

Posters of hair-bands and metal groups hung all around the rock, illuminated by flickering candlelight. It smelled faintly of marijuana, decorated by a patchwork array of tapestries, clothes, and stolen jackets. The guitar he’d lifted off of a traveling rock group sat on his bed — he always talked about starting a band.

A mountain of cassette tapes lay in a semi-organized heap, many of them taken from Videomax or anywhere he could find them. Dwayne simply stood at the fringes of Paul’s nest, watching as you picked through his extensive collection. You smiled at the handful you’d grabbed, rejoining Dwayne as the two of you made for his nest.

In an amusing juxtaposition, Dwayne’s nest was noticeably simplistic — yet, his personality was scrawled all over it. He liked to read, keeping a trunk of books, tools he’d taken from garages, and some trinkets stashed away in a large piece of a drawer.

He hadn’t bothered to invest in a bed for several decades — not until he got entangled with you. When Marko had mentioned it to you in-passing, it was rather intriguing, but you never asked Dwayne about it.

With the stereo now placed at the foot of his makeshift bed, placed atop a rather rickety wooden trunk, you ejected Alice Cooper from the hatch and put in The Cars, instead. Dwayne happened to regard this choice with curiosity, sitting along the edge of the mattress.

Moving in Stereo began to drift through the alcove, and you promptly fell back against the plush surface, tucking your hands atop your chest. “This song reminds me of you.” You murmured, gazing at the cavernous ceiling, focused on the jagged edges and outcroppings of rock.

Dwayne seemed curious, twisting slightly to face you. Even when sitting, he towered over you, indomitable and immovable, a wall of sheer strength and muscle. “Why does it remind you of me?” He wanted to hear your answer, eyes flickering toward your exposed stomach.

You smiled, somewhat embarrassed, but you decided to answer him anyway. “I don’t know,” You began, rolling over onto your side, propping yourself up with one hand. “Just a bit of a mystery, but alluring. It’s pretty magnetizing.” With a soft exhale, you began to pick at a stray string on one of the blankets that covered the mattress.

“Magnetizing,” Dwayne echoed, withholding the urge to smirk. Instead, he joined you, laying on his side as he mirrored your position, face mere centimeters away from yours. “You got a way with words, girl.” His chest shook with a brief huff before he leaned in to kiss you.

If a kiss could have destroyed you, this was it — Dwayne’s mouth consumed you, intensified by your seemingly innocuous words. He tasted good, like spiced smoke and the faint bite of copper.

You were eternally grateful to The Cars — Dwayne was careening into you, broad chest flush against yours, veined hand grasping at the base of your skull. Thick digits massaged at the nape of your neck, coaxing you close until there was no space left between you, lips voraciously tangling with yours.

He ripped all wisps of air from your lungs, as cold as ice as he shrugged off his jacket. Arousal reactivated inside of you, no longer dormant as your warm hands reached for his chest, feeling broad muscle underneath your palms. He felt like a god — chiseled, forever perfect — you were sometimes in-awe of his beauty.

In awe — Dwayne smirked against your mouth, unable to help himself when it came to your overactive imagination and racing thoughts. He pushed his hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing along your curves as he began to feel a familiar tightening in his jeans.

Your scent thoroughly intoxicated him — your natural musk, the cling of perfume, the arousal coalescing between your thighs — it was a perfect amalgamation. Dwayne exhaled, sitting up and taking you with him, hands hooking into the hem of your shirt as he peeled it off of you.

His lips were on your flesh again, hands tearing your thin brassiere apart with ease, reveling in your warmth. Dwayne pressed a string of kisses along your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse point pound against his mouth. The shorts you wore still clung to your frame, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Dwayne,” You sighed, The Cars becoming nothing more than atmospheric background noise. Liquid heat pooled between your legs, a shiver rolling down your spine as he laid you down against the mattress, covering you with his body. Your eyes locked together as he stared down at you, gaze boring right through you. “I need you.”

Dwayne kissed your neck, sucking enough to create a hickey before he traveled to the base of your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone. “Where do you need me, sweet girl?” His husky, warm baritone made you shiver in delight. Those eyes raked over you in rapture, full of reverence.

“Everywhere,” You whimpered, goosebumps coalescing along your spine. Dwayne’s huff of laughter made you smile, and you quickly urged him closer for another kiss. His mouth crashed against yours, passionate and blistering, full of an unrestrained want. “I’m yours.” A sweet moan tore past your lips.

A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside of him, coupled with that innate desire to keep you all to himself. Dwayne didn’t have an issue sharing with his brothers, but you? No — you belonged to him, and him alone. A growl rippled across his broad chest as he tore his lips away, returning to your sternum.

There was a prowess to him that the others didn’t possess — Dwayne was emotionally intelligent, just as vicious in the same breath. He was an enigma of so many things, drawing you in with his arcadian charm. Your fingers reached for his dark tresses, perusing through as he kissed your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Dwayne’s affectionate baritone rumbled across your flesh as he continued his slow, deliberate string of kisses, making his way to your breasts. He trapped one nipple between his lips, gently suckling on the sensitive mound, the other hand tugging at your shorts. “Perfect.” He uttered.

You sighed, fingers tangling within his mane of black tresses, pulling and carding through. It felt silky between your digits, like velvet. Those veined, calloused hands gripped along the meat of your hips, strong and unwavering as he lifted you to discard your shorts.

Arousal pooled between your legs, honey-thick as it toyed with Dwayne’s senses. He wanted nothing more than to drown himself between your thighs, devour you until you were a trembling, mewling mess. Your thoughts shamelessly echoed that sentiment, prompting him to reach toward the apex of your thighs, hand breaking past the waistline of your panties.

Dexterous fingers languidly slipped along your slick cunt, making a line right for your clit. Your body responded in a near-violent fashion, hips jolting up into him, hands curling within his hair. “D—Dwayne!” You whimpered, chasing after the friction his hand provided. Those dark hues hadn’t left you, transfixed on your smitten countenance as he kissed your stomach.

He looked big when his body was spread over yours, but when he began to slink toward your thighs, he was hulking, a massive wall of muscle. Dwayne’s kisses continued, littered all across your pelvis and thighs, fingers still winding you up as he pushed in between your legs with those broad, bronze shoulders.

His visage was rugged with a fine layer of dark stubble, tangible as it scratched against your inner thighs. He curled his hands into your panties, and instead of removing them, Dwayne simply tore them asunder, leaving remnants of fabric behind. The alcove reverberated with the sounds of material being ripped apart.

A thin sheen of arousal painted your cunt, scent stinging his nose in the most pleasant way possible. The velveteen flesh of your inner thighs were layered in faint bite marks — his own, from the past. He looked to you for approval, thumb lazily circling around your clit.

“Please.” You huffed, head bobbing up and down in an idle nod as he moved his lips toward a patch of flesh, unmarred by any bites. Dwayne was always very sensual, and even when he fed from you, it felt so lascivious. Your body jolted, hips writhing closer as he began to bite down.

Dark, earthy-brown hues melted away into pools of a golden-red, unnaturally vibrant. The initial sting of his bite made you wince, but he was always gentle with you when it came to feeding. As sharp teeth drew blood, a low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver. Your fingers continued to trace through his mane of black hair, a myriad of moans escaping you.

Restraining himself from taking this further, he had his fill, kissing over your now-healing bite. Dwayne licked his lips, effortlessly tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he tugged you closer. You were somewhat folded at the hips, but you didn’t care.

Dwayne’s gaze was incendiary, intense — he stared you down from his perch between your thighs. You were visibly flustered, staring right back, nearly shrinking away altogether. He kissed your thighs, mouth dangerously close to your aching cunt. “You ready, girl?” He asked, inhaling another gust of your scent.

You nodded, feeling every fiber of your being scream with desire, and you wanted him terribly. “Yes,” You whimpered, hands having splayed out at your sides instead, no longer buried within his hair. “Dwayne, please,” His deliberation made it worse. “I want you so bad.” Your hips wriggled again, desperate for his mouth.

A warm, hearty chuckle emerged from his lips, making his herculean form shake between your legs. “Just relax,” He soothed, noticing how coiled and poised you were. Those strong, veined hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread apart. The flat of his tongue lapped across your slit in one long stroke. “Relax, Mama.” His voice made your head swim.

Relaxation wasn’t exactly your forte — you were too wound-up, too drunk with desire to simply sit still and melt into the mattress. Dwayne’s tongue began to lap you up, greedily consuming every drop of your sweet arousal, working along your cunt. His fingers clamped hard, enough to leave behind the inklings of bruises, etched into your flesh like his personal brand.

Your thighs threatened to squeeze at his head, but he kept your legs firmly planted on his shoulders, pinning you down and rendering you immobile. Your taste saturated his tongue, and he only chased after it, dutifully lapping at your slit as his nose absentmindedly grazed against your clit.

Dwayne was relatively silent — and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The only ambiance happened to be The Cars, your delighted moans, and your boyfriend’s deep, rumbling grunts. His tongue worked wonders on your aching slit, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing as he lapped you up, gaze flickering towards you.

Your countenance was a vision of beauty, all contorted into an expression of complete and utter bliss. Your hips writhed, with very little room to go considering that Dwayne had you locked down, arms bracketed on your thighs, keeping you caged in against him.

A heavy fire burned bright within the pit of your stomach, demanding to be extinguished. Throaty, noisy moans escaped you in droves, vocalizing your delight as Dwayne vigorously lapped at your cunt. He alternated patterns, between soft and exploratory and recklessly needy. His mouth occasionally brushed over your clit, causing you to shiver.

Each time he ate you out, it was almost like the first time all over again — blissful, filled with a lust-infused passion that threatened to swallow you whole. Dwayne was beyond attentive, savoring you as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever had.

He lowered himself toward the mattress, musculature flat and poised between your thighs. Those strong, thick arms kept you held in-place, keeping you locked in as he continued to lap at your core. His hips rocked forward, harshly grinding against the bed to relieve some of the friction.

Much to your surprise, Dwayne got off on pleasuring you above all else. There was something intimately carnal about it, knowing that you only made those sounds for him, only let him touch you. Your hips jolted forward, met with a barrage of an eager tongue and mouth as he lapped at your cunt.

Dwayne grunted, lips opting to purse around your clit, instead. Your reaction was visceral, moans ascending to an excitable crescendo as your hands flew toward his hair. He grunted again, attempting to vocalize his own satisfaction of you pulling and tugging on his dark tresses as if they were reins.

A burnished-gold coloration had swallowed brown irises whole, flickering down towards your blissed-out visage. Your body had a mind of its own, twitching and writhing as his mouth relentlessly assaulted your aching cunt. Pleasure licked acros your frame, burning along your sensitive nerves. He was vigorous and attentive, throat itching with a dull, familiar ache.

Hunger could wait — Dwayne merely placed that feeling into the recesses of his mind. His tongue continued to cascade across your slit, lapping at your arousal before he returned his attention to your clit, suckling on that bundle of nerves. He steered you towards your orgasm, mind swimming with a thick haze of lust, overwhelmed by your heady scent.

“Dwayne!” Your voice carried above the nest, echoing throughout your cavernous surroundings. Fortunately, you were alone — you had little desire to mask how you felt about him. Needy digits gripped at his tresses again, hips bucking into his mouth until you were simply a pile of mush, unable to respond.

You were lost to the white-hot heat of your release, an explosive sensation that caused you to quiver and spasm in delight. A glittering perspiration danced across your hot flesh, sparkling from the glow of the candlelight. “Dwayne,” You huffed, a whimper emerging from the back of your throat as he dutifully cleaned you up.

He released your hips from his ironclad hold, crawling along your body until his broad frame nestled between your thighs. That taut, muscled hand rest against the base of your throat, digits gingerly squeezing on either side of your windpipe. You initiate a rather tantalizing kiss, able to taste yourself upon his tongue.

A clattering sound resonates in your vicinity, Dwayne wrestling his belt off of his hips as his jeans sag upon his frame. He’s swift, wrangling his pants aside with one hand, the other clutching onto your pretty throat like a vice, evoking a string of sinful noises from your mouth. You kiss him with a desperation that he matches tenfold.

His hips brush against yours, and the distance is nonexistent, closed by your stoic paramour, whose normally-cold gaze reflects with a semblance of warmth. Your hands clamor for his broad shoulders, sinking into the expanse of bronze skin, nails clamping down when he drags the head of his cock against your cunt.

“Speak up, sweet girl.” Dwayne grunts, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. He thoroughly enjoyed your begging on occasion, with this happening to be one of those occurrences. His lips briefly press against the side of your face, stubble grazing across your silken complexion.

With an agonizing pace, he continued to toy with you, pushing his cock against your entrance, but declining to go any further. A pained whine escaped you as you tilted yourself closer. The hand around your throat squeezes, effectively commanding your attention.

“Please,” You sputter, squirming in delight whenever those veined digits tense around the slender expanse of your jugular. “Dwayne, please,” Your simpering pleas are met with a hiss as he sluggishly sinks into you, inch by inch. He lets out another shallow rumble when your fingers brazenly dig into his shoulder. “Please move!”

Cold-blooded and dangerous — but not to you, not now. The icy temperature of his flesh swallows the warmth wafting from you as he invades your space, musculature eclipsing any light. His shadow falls across you, visage awash with his own carnal delight. You’re tight around him, aided by your arousal.

Another satisfactory snarl rips forth from his mouth, echoing next to your ear. You wrap your legs around his broad hips, gasping when he began to move. His cock hit new depths, pulling halfway out before Dwayne pushed himself back in again. His pace was rhythmic and passionate — not sloppy or too rough.

The pad of his thumb draws circles along the curve of your jawline, the rest of his hand tight around your windpipe. You moan, legs locked like a vice as he continues to roll his hips forward, cock battering its way into your cunt with a domineering force. Dwayne was taking it easy on you — if he lost control, it wouldn’t be very pretty for either of you.

His lips find yours, kissing you fervently as you reciprocate in a flurry of passion. Heat bled from you, arousal seeping from your core as Dwayne continued to rut into you, one hand splayed beside your head. The sparkling sheen of his ring glints in the lower light, mouth relentlessly assaulting yours in a barrage of kisses.

Dwayne grunts into your mouth, but the entanglement is shortlived as he moves to cover parts of your neck in kisses — whatever parts aren’t covered by his hand. You feel the sudden scrape of razor-sharp fangs drifting over your flesh, testing your resolve. You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as you grip and pull on his hair.

Sometimes you simply forgot that he was a specter of the night, a fanged creature who had the capability to rip you apart at any moment. His fangs continue to hover across your neck before they retracted, lips replacing them as he kissed your pulse point. There was an added element of thrill and exhilaration as you whimpered, his name spilling from your mouth over and over again.

You nearly see stars when he pistons himself into you again, slow and savoring you, enjoying the sluggishness of it all as Dwayne continues to drag out his thrusts. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his length, prompting you to whimper and moan, goosebumps coalescing along your spine.

“More,” It was incoherent, a string of needy babbles that escaped you in droves. “Dwayne, please,” You whimpered, chewing at your lower lip. In the midst of his own pleasure, Dwayne’s calculating stare flickered toward you — it wasn’t a good idea. “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, hearing the growl that echoed deep from within his chest.

“You sure?” Dwayne didn’t want to hurt you, but he was inclined to obey your needy command. Another grunt escaped him as he steadily rutted away into your tight cunt, deliberating in the midst of it all. “Won’t be gentle.” His stark warning was concrete, you knew this — you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded several times over, digits gently curling around his wrist. “Yeah.” You panted, chest fluttering with a tight sensation as he gave you a hasty, passionate kiss, a parting gift as he squeezed at your jugular. That steady rhythm began to pick up instantaneously.

Dwayne made sure to watch you closely, gaze hawkishly trained upon your body as he began to fuck you. The intensity and the heat rose like a tidal wave, consuming the both of you as he pounded away at your poor cunt. Your legs rattled like leaves, attempting to stay locked around his waist.

The taut muscles of his shoulders and abdomen worked in-tandem, body effortlessly exerting strength. For him, it was nothing — for you, it was a different experience entirely. He was rough, manhandling you with one hand as he grabbed at your hips, enough to leave behind faint impressions in the form of bruises.

Moving in Stereo still swallowed any background noise, encompassing the whole of Dwayne’s nest. You were a complete and utter mess, devolving into a puddle of sweet moans and needy whimpers, especially whenever he applied pressure around your throat. He squeezed whenever he thrust into you, force akin to that of a barely-restrained battering ram.

Even in his self-proclaimed roughness, Dwayne was still executing some measure of restraint. “Mine,” His thunderous voice swarmed you from all sides as he fucked you into submission, gritting pearlescent teeth together as he approached his climax. You kept nodding, back arching into his touch.

“Dwayne,” Dwayne — it feels like the only word you’re capable of saying, rolling from your tongue with a wanton moan. You tug on his tresses with an urgency, feeling his hips grind against yours, flesh kissing flesh with unyielding thrusts. His cock continues to bury itself deep inside of your needy slit until it can go no further. “S—Shit! Right there!” You cry.

He huffs, musculature flat against you, chest to chest as you coax him in for another kiss. You whimper into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours like a heat-seeking missile, teeth breaking the thin skin of your lower lip. Pearls of crimson trickle onto his tongue, fusing lust with hunger — all for you.

Dwayne didn’t stop, showing no signs of stopping as he fucked the both of you through an orgasm, painting your cunt in hot ropes of seed. He doesn’t pull out, a sensation that the two of you feed off of. If it weren’t for his vampirism, you’d be round with his children — the fantasy would continue to linger on for as long as he pleased.

“Shit, Mama,” Dwayne’s strained baritone sends shivers throughout your body. He rarely talks during sex, and this felt like a treat as he continued to thrust into you, feeling your nails dig angry crescents into his shoulder. He groans, savoring the feeling of your constant tugging on his mane of dark tresses. “You’re perfect.” His voice tapered off into a possessive growl.

You want to scream, a raging fire surging throughout your body before it finally comes to an end, extinguished by Dwayne’s rough rutting. He could’ve kept it up, continued all night long with his cock stuffed inside of you, but humanity was both a blessing and a curse. Your thighs shook underneath his grasp, and he began to slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

His hand left behind a searing brand around your throat — whether or not the imprints are visible, it’s the sensation that refuses to leave. Your windpipe feels a little sore, but it’s a pleasant burn as he comes to a crawl, nestling his forehead against yours.

The excitement and blissful thrill of the moment steadily begins to fade, composure replacing a very heavy lust. Your heart thrums beneath your breast, beginning to crawl to a more uniform beat as you nudge forward, kissing Dwayne again. Your lips are swollen, split down the middle with a patch of dried cruor.

Dwayne’s exhale of relaxation comes after, and the tension within his body unfurls. He kept himself inside of you still, feeling your poor cunt clench around his cock when he adjusted his position. His kiss is astoundingly tender this time around, able to taste the pang of copper upon your lip, accompanied by your natural sweetness.

A sense of euphoria overwhelms you, body feeling wonderfully heavy as Dwayne peppered kisses all along your jaw and collarbone. “You alright?” He murmured, making sure that he hadn’t pushed the limit with you. It was easy to become lost in the moment, forget about your humanity.

You nodded, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, resting his head against your stomach, arms encircling themselves around you. “Better than alright,” You mused, tracing your fingers throughout his hair. “You think Paul will mind that we borrowed his stereo?” Laughter burst forth from your mouth.

A bemused huff escaped Dwayne as he reached over with one muscled arm, hitting the ‘NEXT’ track on the boombox. He pulled you close, nose wrinkling in disdain as Drive by The Cars came on — it wasn’t exactly his taste in music.

“Like you said,” He rumbled, peering up at you with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His arms effortlessly tugged you down to his level, lips twitching into a faint smirk, rare for Dwayne yet mesmerizing all the same. His mouth brushed above yours. “Joint custody.”

[mollyjames]

Okay actually, Dandy and I were talking and they do have a kind of insane compromise to the Universes Beyond problem. It's far too late and would never be implemented (and doesn't have quite the same punch in the shareholders meeting), but WotC does have tech for this, built into Magic from its inception:

Their proposal is a roster of different card games using the base Magic ruleset, under the Deckmaster banner.

This would accomplish a few things:

1. It would keep the games separate, which at the end of the day is what I think most of us want. Instead of Magic being all things to all players, it can continue to foster the strong community it has grown over the years, while allowing the UB cards to "start from scratch", without literally decades of power and complexity creep to contend with.

2. Onboarding gets easier. Now new players only have to worry about a limited pool of Marvel cards, or Final Fantasy cards. And since all these games use the same base ruleset, they can swap at any time. And when they're ready, they can dive into the deep end with Magic and its 30+ year history worth of cards.

3. It allows you to focus on each game's unique mechanical identity. You get to pull levers and make decisions you'd normally never get to under the Magic ruleset. Mess around a bit. Marvel doesn't have "Sorceries", it has "Actions". Instead of "Creatures" you have "Heroes" and "Villains". Idk, you get the picture.

4. The games can still be compatible. Now instead of mandatory UB cards featuring in your competitive formats, you get to have a fun casual "super format", where everyone plays what they want. You want new players to be commander players? Well, now you have super commander. It's not perfect (and probably mutually exclusive with point 3), but people enjoy mashing things together so long as they're the ones doing it and it's just for fun.

Obviously this is too little too late, and I'm sure there are plenty of issues with this proposal. But I do wonder if something like this was ever discussed internally.

[centrally-unplanned]

Fuck seed oil discourse, fuck globalism conspiracy great replacement bullshit, the internet of today sucks. We have to go back, back to the way things were. When men, real men - who may have been catgirls to be clear since you never saw their faces - would tell you what The System refused to say: that your understanding of a battle from 2000+ years ago that you got from Westpoint textbook formation diagrams as bastardized by some other YouTube channel is an inaccurate portrayal of the event based on the 500 hours they spent building a brick-by-brick simulation of the battle in the Unreal engine. Enviously-autistic levels of devotion to a topic that is never, ever going to be politically or personally relevant a day of your life.

This is what the internet is for.

Anyway I only just started watching, but I can tell I am gonna be a fighter with dear Invicta up here. My bet is that 50% of this video's point is going to be the perfectly correct statement that the 1970's model of the battle that people have in their minds is wrong. Back when academics read Livy, read Polybius, and were like "yep, these two authors who are honestly contradicting themselves 20% of the time sound legit, let's take em at their word". Which is a valid point to make, obviously, I just bet the branding of the video will run a bit of aground of the need to cite the dozens of more modern academics who already know this. You have "you are wrong about Cannae" articles dating back to the 90's, and that is just one I knew off the top of my head - I have no doubt there are earlier ones. Cannae's sources are spotty, and our understanding of it will always be vague and debated.

The other 50% is going to be what I would call "model devotion" - essentially taking the conclusions of the model as a sort of gospel. But the model is, of course, built from the same vague guesswork as the spotty sources, and is a process of embedding assumptions. Right in the opening he declares that "once you realize how big the battle is, the idea of an organized retreat over a distance of a kilometer is impossible to consider" idk man I can consider it! Have you looked at military history? People do crazy shit, particularly when they are prepared to do it. If Nasir could lead men 600 miles across the desert to attack Aqaba by land, I think these guys can fight for a few kilometers. Doesn't mean they did, but in particular if it was so crazy contemporary sources probably would have pointed it out themselves (Polybius, not Livy - Livy sucks). People tend to over-assume the ignorance of the past - Cannae was a momentous event. Romans wanted to understand it, and we should extend at least some credit to them on that front.

But again, I have only watched a little bit of it - overall it looks great, really! He clearly did a ton of research and work, anyone who is building custom maps of the Aufidus River's historical floodplain to estimate various battle site locations deserves all the credit in the world. I will watch the whole thing, maybe he will convince me!

[definitelynotshouting]

Idk if this is Hunger AU canon or my own personal fanon but

one of the "calling cards" that the Watchers used in Evo was bedrock

bedrock is unbreakable by a player

perfect for trapping the player you're using as a Watcher incubator

and the texture looks rough af

when you get desperate you often try to do stuff to escape even if it's impossible, right

so what I'm saying is

probably one of the last things player!Grian did was tearing his hands to shreds trying to break bedrock out of sheer desperation

which makes all the passages in your fic where he's staring at his hands even more *gestures vaguely*

(idk why I typed this out in this format but it felt right so I'm going with it)

MAN OKAY THIS IS SUPER COOL i especially adore how youve connected it with the way i keep having Grian stare at his own hands???? which ftr is smth ive only just now realized i do all the time AKDBWKDJKSSJ this is JUST like the scarian jaw kisses thing HELPPPP 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 but thats such a cool thought!!! And utterly angsty i love it >:]

Its also made me realize i dont think ive ever actually told yall what did happen during that interim where Grian was captive as a Player before he died and became a Watcher, so buckle in i guess as i try to explain this one to yall (obligatory cws for captivity, parasitism, violated autonomy, body horror, and major character death discussion)

Yknow the world borders the life series has?? It was like that, but tiny. Maybe a couple chunks' worth of space to move around in. He spawned into a savannah biome and the Watchers specifically in charge of keeping an eye on him (pun intended) penned him in with the borders, implanted the specially-coded larva, and then retreated back just outside the server's barrier code to, well. To Watch.

So post Evo dragon fight the Watchers convinced Grian to join them without telling him what that entailed. They then proceeded to whisk him away to the server cluster's dev crystal, which is where the remnants of this Watcher colony made their semi-permanent home. There, held together basically only by the Watchers' ability to manipulate code, they had Grian make a brand new server.... and immediately trapped him in it.

He spent a year there slowly dying, eaten from the inside out by a parasite that was collecting his memories, copying over his stats and personality, with very limited space and resources to get by with. I know he built a tiny house out of acacia, but it never got any bigger than a starter base. He lived off of mostly bread and the meat from a few animals that spawned in with him; he primarily used stone tools, because those were what was most readily available. It was a very terrifying and lonely year, where all access to the outside world was cut off, and he was meticulously watched over to keep from dying while the larva inside him continued to grow and destroy him.

The Watchers were mostly hands-off in terms of interaction, but they did do regular check-ins to ensure the larva was alive and that there was no danger present to its host. Hostile mobs were carefully warded off, and Grian spent most of his time alternating between begging them to let him go (they never responded), trying to figure out ways to escape (it never worked), and tending to baseless chores just to keep from going out of his mind as his body grew weaker and weaker and more unstable around him.

I have a lot of feelings about this tbh, bc its just such a bleak scenario to think about-- trapped in a tiny cage with something killing you from the inside out, and your captors wont even talk to you about it properly. Being left otherwise to your own devices, with the terrible, lingering knowledge that, even if it was under duress, you still agreed to this. The fact that, after a certain point, after your questions and pleas are summarily ignored and brushed aside, you finally realize: you aren't meant to survive this. You are going to die.

A juvenile Watcher's first meal are the emotions during their host's last few moments. Grian was no exception; he cracked his way out of his own ribcage, and, without meaning to, amplified and feasted on Player!Grian's agony and terror as he died. With their memory codes finally disconnected, Grian had to watch himself through the eyes of a stranger as his terrified consciousness dissolved and his body fell apart into nothing more than loose strings of code.

Only then, still weak and flailing and helpless, was he was brought into the colony proper, in order to teach him how to be a Watcher. It wouldnt be for another few years before Grian gained the strength, control, and insight required to make his desperate escape. In total, i wanna say he spent somewhere between.... 4-6 years??? with the colony against his will. It would take another 4 for him to finally scrape together the courage to contact Mumbo and finally ask him for an invite into the Hermitcraft proper

One of these days i do plan to write that reunion, actually, which i'll add to the series as another prequel just like all the words that i forgot to say, which takes place roughly 6-8 months after Grian finally joins Hermitcraft. And if yall want to read an absolutely fantastic fic that deals with the moment Watcher!Grian was born and Player!Grian died, you should absolutely check out my friend @raichett 's fic Divergency, which ive pretty much canonized bc it REALLY hits the nail on the head for that situation.

Okay this got a lot longer than i meant it to sidhskdjej also those timeframes are a little squiggly bc i havent fully settled on where they fall on the general timeline. I wanna say Grian had been a Watcher for abt a decade by the time Mumbo got him onto Hermitcraft, though, so thats the loose timeline im working off of when i talk abt this :] anyway thanks for giving me an excuse to write this all out!!! while your idea about the bedrock isnt necessarily canon, i absolutely ADORE it and can totally see Grian just tearing up his hands while scrabbling against the world border.... utterly heartbreaking we fucking LOVE to see it. Thanks for sending in your ask!!! I always love seeing what you have to say about hunger au!!! :DDD

[pitviperofdoom]

Hello pit! I've been thinking about getting into tma lately, however I'm unsure how to go about it? I'm kind of a wimp when it comes to horror, and I don't have a lot of time on my hands (cuz med school). I also know that someone has uploaded all the seasons without the statements and just has the parts related to the main story, which would be faster and would cut out a lot of the horror stuff, but I also feel that listening to that would be,,, idk disingenuous? Disrespectful? To all the work rusty quill put in for the full thing and how they wanted to present it

I mean it's less that it would be disingenuous or disrespectful and more that if you don't listen to the statements you might not know what's going on.

Disclaimer, I haven't listened to the cut you mentioned so I don't know exactly how much they leave out, but-

The reason why TMA works so well within its medium and format is that vital story and worldbuilding elements are introduced through the statements long before they appear in the diagetic action. The "main story" will bring in characters that have long been established and built up through appearing and being mentioned in the statements, and because of that their presence and importance don't need to be explained in the dialogue and action, so they aren't. And a lot of times the dialogue and action are in direct response to what was just narrated in the statement; this is especially true at the end of Season 2, when the information revealed in several statements directly prompts Jon's actions in the finale. Several episodes throughout the series are major characters giving live statements to explain their backstories and motivations and/or further the plot; Martin's statement in Colony is the main story. And that's not even getting into Season 5, when the line between statement and main story gets blurred even more.

As a fellow horror wimp I definitely sympathize. Lost Johns Cave, A Guest for Mister Spider, and Tucked in were some of the worst ones for me, and A Sturdy Lock was one of the only ones I had to skip ahead. Personally horror podcasts are a lot easier on me than horror movies, so the horror was manageable enough that it was worth gritting my teeth once in a while for the sake of a really good story. Plus, TMA explores a lot of different types and flavors of horror, so some episodes may not even hit your particular pressure points. I don't know your limits so really only you can decide that.

And as for time, I've never been to medical school (good on you!) so I can't really give solid advice, but the beauty of podcasts is that you don't really need to set aside time for it, you can listen to it in the car or on the train or while wandering around the grocery store. Again, you know your schedule better than me.

At the end of the day it's up to you. The main story bits of TMA are fun and exciting, and definitely not all of the statements are plot-vital. I guess, don't worry about being disingenuous or disrespectful--it doesn't make a lick of difference to Jonny Sims and Alex J. Newall how you choose to interact with their story. You get to have the experience you want with this; just know that there's no real clear-cut separation between statements and "main story"; TMA is a conversation between the two.

[wing-dingy]

Remember when I said I wasn't gonna post fanfics? I lied. I'm gonna post just this one as an excuse to have some Johnshi in my life but also because its rare I write a fic that isnt a self indulgent oc fic

This is just a lil fic where Kenshi comforts Johnny after a stunt on set leaves him with an injured ankle, mostly cute banter. Also sorry if the formatting looks weird, i dont normally post fics to tumblr so idk how to space my paragraphs like I do on google docs.

Click. Step. Click. Step.

The Hollywood actor carried himself on his crutches across the room, from the door to his living room couch, where he saw Kenshi waiting in anticipation.

“Honey, I'm home,” Johnny announced in a parody of those old movies, how he loved his dumb movie references.

“Doesn't sound like good news. Are those crutches?” Kenshi asked, judging by the sound and the patterns of the sound. Though he usually relied on Sento for sight, he hardly ever felt the need to in a casual setting, so it rested in the mantle above the fireplace.

“Yeup. Doc says I'll need ‘em for a few weeks, a month at most.”

Kenshi crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch. “Was that stunt still worth it?”

Johnny snorted, “Totally, the shot came out perfect! You may not know this, but I do all of my own stunts. Impresses everybody when I tell them that!” He dropped a small paper bag of his prescribed painkillers on the coffee table and sat next to Kenshi, wincing as he lifted his ankle to rest it on the same table.

“Aren't stuntmen used so the real actors don't get hurt?”

“I mean- yeah. But don't worry, they're just gonna film everything else until I come back, which should be in no time. I'm just built different.”

Kenshi could just hear the cocky smile, causing him to shake his head in disbelief, but he couldn't hold back the small bit of laughter at Johnny’s pride and confidence. “Alright, but it looks like it's my turn to take care of you again.”

“Don't sweat it, Ken doll, I can take care of myself. You've already helped me enough, and you've got yourself to look after,” He noted all too seriously. Obviously there still rested some guilt in his heart over Mileena's rabid attack that day.

“That ankle needs to rest. That movie needs you and you need the money from it.” Undeniable. Johnny was still getting back on his feet (not literally now) after a messy and expensive divorce, he needed whatever work he could get at the moment. “You just let me know when you need something.”

Johnny sighed as he looked down at his injured ankle. These next few weeks were going to be the most boring while of his life.

Kenshi seemed to know Johnny wasn't feeling so good by the sudden quietness, not even a silly request from his offer. When Johnny of all people was quiet, there was a problem. “Johnny? You alright?”

“Yeah… I've just never been good at sitting still and doing nothing, you know? Now I can't even use my own pool in my living room,” He complained, as if having a pool in the living room was a normal thing.

“Come on, Johnny, you still have a whole mansion. Unless your attention span really is that small, you're not gonna get bored,” Kenshi lovingly poked at him. “It’s not like you're alone either.”

Johnny noded with a small smile of comfort. “That's right, I've got you, my best friend, boyfriend, and assigned FBI agent,” Johnny joked. Gods, not again with the assigned FBI agent meme. “And hey, maybe we can invite Kung Lao and Raiden over to hang out. You think Liu Kang would wanna drop by?”

Kenshi gave an amused smirk. “Probably not, but Kung Lao, might.”

Johnny looked down at the table again, spotting a marker. He groaned and wheezed as he leaned over to grab it, trying not to move his ankle off the table as his finger tips barely touched the marker.

“Johnny what are you-” Before he could finish his question, he felt a marker tapping against his hand.

“You wanna be the first to sign my cast?” Johnny offered, trying to play it off cool but his excitement was slipping past in his voice.

“You mean Hollywood’s megastar wants my autograph?” Kenshi teased. He took the marker into his hand, and Johnny guided his hand down to his cast. Confidently, Kenshi began writing his name.

“Not bad writing for someone who can't really see,” Johnny complimented, meaning it obviously and trying to make it sound like that rather than a mockery.

“I still know the motions of writing, that's enough to get by.” Of course Johnny hadn't seen Kenshi's messier writing at his job and maybe it should stay that way.

The real surprise was the small heart he drew right below his own name. Kenshi wasn't so into PDA, nor into cutesy stuff like that, so it caught Johnny off guard to see the small display. It wasn't like people didn't know they were dating, Johnny was way too into showing off their love and too loud to keep that secret, but it was rather that Kenshi was a more subtle lover when it came to their relationship, preferring to keep things behind doors. Still, it was a nice surprise, and at least now it made the cast way better to look at! Of course Johnny was already pulling out his phone to snap a photo of it to post to his socials.

“You're posting your cast, aren't you?” Kenshi reasonably accused.

“Gotta let the fans know production might be on hold.”

“Is that it? Or are you bragging about us again?”

Johnny snickered, meaning Kenshi was right. “Okay, you got me, but how can I not show you off? You're the coolest! A blind swordsman? Dating Hollywood's biggest hit? We're like a power couple!”

If Kenshi still had his eyeballs, he'd be lovingly rolling them, but admittedly it was kind of cute seeing how enthusiastic Johnny was about their relationship- and kind of funny to think about considering they were previously rivals over Sento.

Kenshi leaned in to press a kiss to Johnny's cheek, and he could feel the wrinkles of a smile under his lips. “Looks like you're feeling better about that ankle.”

“As long as I have you by my side, this injury is gonna be a breeze!” Now it was Johnny's turn to lean in, this time leaning to rest his head on Kenshi with closed eyes and a content smile. Kenshi reciprocated by wrapping an arm around Johnny to hold him. “Shit, that medicine they gave me is starting to catch up.”

“You get sleepy off of a couple Tylenols,” Kenshi playfully quipped, making Johnny laugh.

“Just saying it's a good excuse to nap on you! Unless you're gonna tele-fling me to bed again.”

Kenshi shook his head. “Maybe when your ankle isn't as broken. Right here is fine, just keep your ankle up.”

“Sweet,” Johnny happily murmured as he felt himself starting to doze off. Damn, Tylenol really did knock him out.

[cafeseoulmate]

Why We (Don’t) Work

i'm okay with being by your side for as long as i can hide what if i told you that i've fallen?

featuring: music major!beomgyu x fine arts major!gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst, childhood best friends to lovers, neighbors to lovers au, idiots to lovers au, high school au, college au, band au, hurt/comfort, slice of life, slowburn, mutual pining, 5+1 & nonlinear format

wc: 13k

warnings and other notes: cursing, alcohol consumption, reader is implied bi/pan, two jokes about murder, mention of the flu, brief mention of making out, cliches, inaccurate portrayal of a painting & sculpture double major, idk where this was going tbh

I. WE'VE BEEN FRIENDS FOR TOO LONG

The idea of friends eventually becoming lovers, especially those who have known each other for a long time, is okay in your opinion. In theory, the principle of falling in love with someone whom you've previously built a relationship with is not that great but not that awful either.

It's reasonable, practical and natural even in many situations. You would know from the amount of friends you've watched over the years who only started seeing each other romantically after a few years of getting to know and being comfortable around each other platonically.

You just figure that it's not for you and Choi Beomgyu, the nuisance who's been affectionately stuck to your hip since your days at the neighborhood playground.

For starters, you've known him for far too long. Not that love is supposed to have an expiration date, it's just that most people who start off friends—like your college friends Yeji and Ryujin who started dating before your junior year—usually take less than a decade, and that is really pushing it in your humble opinion.

Beomgyu's known you since the time you were sporting bowl cuts your mom fashioned with your kitchen scissors, probably and unconsciously even longer than that given that your respective moms have also been close friends since you were toddlers. You've pushed each other at the swings and the slides more than any of your other childhood friends, have gone to the same schools together spent most of your non-holidays with each other since kindergarten, and even live in the same university dorm at the present.

You both had almost 16 years to bring up anything remotely close to romantic feelings with each other and the closest to romantic-leaning affection that you got from him was the time he gave you a bouquet of roses, and he didn't even buy it for you originally.

It was in your 10th grade, when Valentine's Day gifts have finally reached normal status among the consciousness of your teen peers. Since Halloween, Beomgyu had been saving up his money to buy Yeeun from Class 4 a bouquet of roses—bribing you to pay for his lunch two out of five days in the week, singing and dancing his ass off at his family's Christmas and Lunar New Year parties for money, and working the afternoon shift at the neighborhood guitar store—only to chicken out at the last minute because Jaehyun from Class 6 had asked Yeeun to be his girlfriend in a very public proposal at the soccer field.

In a small class reunion last Christmas, Taehyun had asked about the whole ordeal, supported by the drunk cheerings of your former classmates at the memory of Beomgyu handing you the abnormally large bouquet by the school gate during dismissal almost five years ago.

"What else do you want to know about that?" You asked with a frown, feeling light-headed from all the barbecue and soju yourself. It was finals week for most of you as well, somehow making all the shots of peach-flavored alcohol taste sweeter and the stories bitterer. "You all know how it went: Gyu chickened out and didn't want to waste his hard-earned money on a girl who got a boyfriend that same day so he gave it to me before we went home."

"You also gave me half of the money to buy it! That's also an important detail!" Beomgyu slurred out to your right, leaning his head on your arm with a giggle and making you roll your eyes. "I thought, 'ya, this person bought me lunch for three months they kind of bought this bouquet so I'll just give it to them. That's only fair!'"

Yunjin raised a finger this time, as if making a shushing motion in the air as she took a long sip of her soju bottle across the table. "Okay but!" She exclaimed after slamming her bottle down, momentarily covering her mouth as she hiccuped before continuing. "You...you could've just gave it to your mom or something!"

"Auntie's allergic to flowers." You pointed out. "My dad also forgot to buy my mom flowers that time so I gave it to him when I got home. I technically saved two lives that day.”

"So it didn't spark anything?" Jeongin pointed to you then to Beomgyu who was contemplating on falling asleep on you by that point, clearly uninterested in this conversation you've had with the rest of the world a million times already. "Not even a little bit?"

Of course there were times over the years, at least on your part—moments where Beomgyu spent an hour too long in your childhood home when he just told you that his parents wanted him to come home at a certain time, filled a day with questionably sweet gestures only to bribe you with trouble after, or comforted you too well in your darkest moments among others that made your heart flutter more than it's supposed to.

You never told anyone about how on that day, you plucked out a single rose from the bouquet before secretly handing it to your dad as he cooked a quick Valentine's Day dinner for your mom. There was no denying that, even if he gave it to you under pitiful circumstances, it was still a sweet gesture. After Yeeun, he thought of giving it to you, the next immediate person and his best friend.

The red rose drank fresh water by your windowsill for three days until Beomgyu invited himself over for a cram session when you ended up hiding the flower shamefully under your bed and convincing yourself that you were just momentarily blinded by the principle of the gesture.

Though it accidentally wilted after you've forgotten about it amidst your busy high school schedule, you still keep the petals in a box under your bed as a reminder of all those moments you've thought you were starting to feel something for your best friend, only to snap yourself out of it after. You even had one of the petals made into a resin necklace by Yeji when she picked up on the hobby, wearing it everyday since without Beomgyu ever asking about it’s significance.

He just thinks you got it from the congratulatory bouquet the boys all pitched in to give when you won a sculpting competition at the university museum.

But as mentioned, you've mostly come to terms with the fact that you've known Beomgyu long enough to let a lot of opportunities to pass by, even if it pains you. Though romantic love doesn’t have to have an expiration date, you think you’ve been around your best friend long enough to know and accept that nothing is going to happen.

So to keep up appearances, you shook your head in front of your demanding friends that night at the reunion and teasingly pushed the sleeping Beomgyu to Taehyun's shoulder, much to everyone's disappointment.

"I've known him for all my life, literally. If something remotely romantic were to happen, it should've happened years ago." You grimaced before downing another shot of peach soju, that particular shot stinging a bit too much for your liking.

"But that's, like, the tricky thing with friends: you never really know when things are starting to be something else with one or both people." Sieun pointed out with a pout.

"Oh, I can assure you, it's not like that with us." You waved your hand dismissively in response before quickly going back to gathering your next mouthful of lettuce wrap. “Anyway, you guys have known us pretty well too. We just don’t match that way.”

Next to you, Beomgyu groaned seemingly in agreement as he stirred on Taehyun's shoulder, moving to lean on you again. "You're all so fucking noisy." He mumbled on the nook of your neck, hands encircling around your waist as he then pointed at the jug of water on the table. “If Y/N says it's not like that then it's not like that. So let me sleep and let Y/N eat their food!"

You shrugged at Sieun and Yunjin, smoothly shifting the conversation's focus to Sieun after before filling in a glass of water for Beomgyu as he’s requested.

"You're going to have a nasty hangover later, you know." You pointed out to him, making sure to keep your voice low knowing that he's sensitive to noise when he's drunk.

"You'll take care of me." He replied confidently with a boyish grin, more as a statement than a question. "Can I sleep over your dorm later? Hyuka won't let me in the room like this and Ryujin's already on vacation anyway."

You then rolled your eyes, knowing full well that you don’t have a choice anyway. "Sure, sure."

II. WE HAVE SHIT TASTE IN PEOPLE (AND IT WOULD BE AN INSULT TO OURSELVES IF WE START LIKING EACH OTHER)

The first time someone directly and publicly questioned Beomgyu's relationship with you, however, was at the traditional secret gathering your classmates had arranged in your two-day senior retreat just four years ago. On that night, after a whole day of tedious team-building activities and an evening of getting lectured by your teachers on house rules, most of Class 2 gathered at the boys' shared room for swiped alcohol and midnight snacks.

At that time, it was Daehwi who had asked and the context was the equally traditional game of truth or dare. When Beomgyu was picked for the second time that night, he surprisingly chose truth, prompting the question everyone has apparently been asking among themselves.

"Would you date Y/N?"

Beomgyu laughed. It was always his instinct to laugh whenever his own relatives asked the same question or when you would tell your own similar experiences but also because he saw you throwing your head back in laughter as well from where you were seated between Yunjin and Ryujin.

But what really solidifies this question as an inside joke between the two of you was the time when you watched When Harry Met Sally together at a sleepover in Beomgyu's house a year before the class retreat.

It was the classic friends to lovers romcom that you ended up watching in that particular sleepover in the first place because Yunjin mentioned that it reminded her of you and Beomgyu. So of course it had to be brought up before you could accidentally fall asleep on Beomgyu that night, you pointing to Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan before smacking Beomgyu in the head and asking the exact same question the boy would face at the senior retreat.

"Without thinking about all the gross couple shit like kissing or whatever," You gagged between your question, making Beomgyu roll his eyes and scoff. "would you date me?"

"First of all: gross—"

"That's why I said without all the couple stuff!"

"Still gross! Why would you think of that question!"

Back to the class retreat, once Beomgyu had calmed down from laughing and before Jeongin or Hueningkai could start leading the teasing on how you and your best friend reacted to the question in the same way at the same time, he said, "Y/N has shit taste in people. It'd be an insult to myself if they start liking me, even more if we do date."

You laughed even harder, repeating the words back to him. "Ya, you have shit taste in people too!"

Daehwi almost did a whole spit take with his glass of Cola while hearing your exchange. "Damn, you two are brutal with each other!"

Taehyun told Beomgyu later on that he felt as if that particular answer could be misinterpreted as the latter being mean to you. But your best friend was quick to explain that it's something you actually talked about in the aforementioned sleepover. You also backed him up on this over breakfast the next day when you sat with the two boys.

On the night of your sleepover, after you asked the question and Beomgyu was done making his teasing disgusted faces in front of you, he had said the exact same words for the first time and even elaborated on it.

And like Daehwi, you also almost did a spit take hearing it for the first time but your own glass of hot chocolate.

"You had a crush on Yeonjun two years ago before he was cool and you dated that annoying what's-her-name from the softball team who, by the way, cheated on you before you could even celebrate 100 days." The blunt 11th-grader Beomgyu said in front of your surprised face on that sleepover. "Ah, and don't get me started on that time you were swooning over that asshole Taejoon from Class 7 last semester because he sat next to you on the bus when I got the flu? You were crushing on a guy who thought he was jack shit and played with a lot of girls while I was almost dying in the hospital! Shit taste and inconsiderate!"

You and Beomgyu also did not forget to mention to Taehyun about how you almost smothered Beomgyu to death with a pillow in response, pausing the movie so Meg Ryan didn't have to see the crime you were about to do before tackling your best friend on the bed.

"Hey, Yeonjun's cool and Minji from softball really is an asshole but I didn't know Taejoon had a reputation in Class 7 back then! I just thought he was cute and really polite to the old ladies and the kids on the bus!" You retorted aggressively, smacking Beomgyu's face repeatedly with the Hello Kitty pillow he lent you for that night. "And I visited you with the boys and Yunjin after school while you were sick to catch you up in class, you ungrateful brat! I have shit taste but I'll never be inconsiderate to you!

"While we're at it, you also have shit taste, mind you! Pining after girls like Yeeun and Rina right when they start dating other people! Ah, and you dated that girl, Areum, in the 9th grade too even when everyone kept telling you that she was trying to get to Soobin through you! Shit taste and idiotic!"

Your college years would not spare the both of you from having more strings of failed romantic relationships just as much as it did not stop all the questions from friends, both new and old, about Beomgyu's relationship with you so the answer always remained the same: both of you have shit taste in people so dating each other would be somehow insults to yourselves.

But there are times, of course, when it would just be you and Beomgyu alone and, instead of the usual jokes and banter, he allows himself to be just slightly honest for the sake of his sanity and to make sure that you never feel as if he has some hidden ill-intent in always jokingly bringing up the uglier sides of your dating history.

In another sleepover at his house last summer, he didn't fight you when you decide on watching My Best Friend's Wedding and blurted out halfway, "As your own best friend, I think you deserve the best."

Though no one did a spit take this time, you did momentarily freeze while trying to tuck yourself in under the weighted blanket you were sharing. On his laptop perched comfortably on a foldable table, the movie was coincidentally at the part where Julia Roberts was delivering the iconic, "Choose Me” speech.

“I'll have to say this quick or I'm just going to have this massive coronary and then you'll never hear it and.....and....you have to. This is, by far the dumbest thing I've ever done in my entire life.” Julia Roberts dramatically delivered on the laptop screen as if filling in the silence. “Ugh—so dumb in fact—uh—that I can't...... oh but I'm gonna.”

“What’s wrong?” Her male lead, Dermont Mulroney, asked and Beomgyu felt like he should be asking that question to you when your silence started dragging on for too long.

When you did regain your composure, you chuckled nervously. "I-I mean yeah, I know, but...what's with that all of a sudden?" You furrowed your brows up at him.

And like he was mirroring you, Beomgyu also paused for a moment as he too contemplated on why he said it out of nowhere.

Meanwhile, Julia Roberts just continued delivering her lines flawlessly, filling in the silence between the two of you. “Michael......I love you. I've loved you for nine years. I've just been too arrogant and scared to realize it and, well, now I'm just scared. So I, I......realize that this comes at a very inopportune time. But I really have this gigantic favor to ask of you.” Though the sound coming in on your respective earphones was only at 75%, suddenly it felt louder the longer that Beomgyu didn't speak. “Choose me? Marry me. Let me make you happy.”

Beomgyu scratched the nape of his neck and smiled sheepishly, turning away for a second as you finally pause the movie and the light illuminates the side of his face a little too brightly.

“Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re gonna pull a Julia Roberts right now. You know—“

“What? No!"

“Then answer the question!”

"I just remembered, you know, how we always say that we won't date each other because we both have shitty taste in people and everything." He shrugged when he did explain himself, unconsciously sinking lower on the bed as he pressed his back harder on the bed frame behind you. "And I know it's a joke and all but I—I also think that you deserve better than someone like me...or Yeonjun, Soobin, Tae, and Hyuka.

“Though I guess it is hard to find someone better than us, especially me and Soobin, I think you should still look for someone who’s really kind, smart, and will never give you a hard time. You deserve someone who looks out for you and makes you feel like home but also like you’re flying.

“Someone who’s funny too but not too funny to upstage me! Just enough to get you through the dark times because you do get really stressed out these days. I—I don’t know, I guess I was just thinking about—about that, yeah…”

You relaxed your expression as he spoke, though a small pout remained. "Okay..." You pressed play on the laptop again with a laugh. "Random but okay.”

“I give my whole heart out to you in a speech and that’s all you have to say?”

“What else do you want me to say?” You scoffed and playfully nudged him away, earning you a dramatic wince from him. "With how you generally act around people I like, it's not that hard to figure out that it's because you think this way."

“Yeah but, I don’t know, maybe say it back to me too and comfort my lonely, lonely heart?” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in response.

“I think that’s a you problem. We all tell you to just get yourself out there then you reject every person who throws themself at you.”

The boy feigned a glare next. “I’m going to kill you in your sleep later.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes, moving carefully on the bed to face him fully. “You deserve someone infinitely better than me too. Someone gorgeous—not just pretty!—and smart enough to keep your dumbass in check and just overall awesome, but not too awesome, of course! I’m literally the coolest person you’ll ever meet…ever!”

"Oh you flatter me, Y/N!" He exclaimed dramatically with his hands to his chest, smiling when you snorted and turned your attention back to the laptop again to press play on the movie.

Though he partly thinks otherwise—that it’s impossible that there’s someone out there infinitely better than you overall—he does agree that you are the coolest person in his life.

"You're so annoying." You mumbled under your breath and he quickly retaliated by pinching your cheek affectionately. "Ya!"

"You love me."

"I know right, how will I even find someone better than you?" You teased but Beomgyu's observant enough to understand that you only mean it halfway.

"Maybe you won't?" He teased back with a wink. "I know for sure no one's better than you."

"Shut up."

III. WE ARE EXTREME OPPOSITES (AND WE ANNOY EACH OTHER A LOT)

If you were to be asked about the things that annoy you about Beomgyu and vice versa, you both would probably need a month of preparation and a year each just to list everything you've come up with. Sure, you’ve known each other for a long enough time to be comfortable in each other’s presence but that doesn’t make everyday perfect as there are still instances when you get the undeniable urge to smack him in the head or dropkick him for being insufferable.

If you were to make a top five shortlist, however, the fact that Beomgyu has no concept of personal space when it comes to you would take the cake—pinching your cheeks, holding your hand whenever a remotely attractive person passes you by, always putting his legs on top of yours, hugging you to death, and always headlocking you when you meet up among others.

But beyond that, ever since he got comfortable with initiating skinship with you around the 3rd grade, he's also somehow managed to convince himself that he had the right to be all up in your personal business too even when you didn't want him to—from simple things like stealing your food, spamming you with messages the second you don't reply as quickly as he'd like, to always having insisting that he accompanies you whenever you mention going to a new place, online stalking anyone you find interesting, randomly popping up at the studio in the Fine Arts department, and loosely keeping tabs on people you hang out with.

There have been times, however, when Beomgyu’s nosiness has actually saved you from a date or unwanted attention in public and even comforted you. In elementary and high school, whenever you’re allowed to pick groupmates, he’s always ready with gossip about everyone’s work ethic for some reason. Whenever a creep at the mall or at a party would try to hit on you, he’s always by your side ready with a glare and all intent to report the creep to the authorities. And even when he’s a shit drunk, he’s always aware enough to defend you whenever your friends pick on you.

But more importantly, as the more reserved person between the two of you, Beomgyu’s always the one who’s forcing you to open up to at least one person when you’re down (aka him).

The first sleepover that the two of you ever had was in the 6th grade when Beomgyu invited himself over to your house and stayed up with you until 3 AM to finish a Science project your three other groupmates basically gave up on. You never asked him to do it, just complained about it over lunch once, then suddenly he was barging in your house with his own stationary and your Science teacher already notified of how your groupmates have been slacking the past two weeks.

“Why did you do that?” You pouted after turning in your finished paper online. Fortunately for the two of you that time, it was a Friday and sleeping in wasn’t going to be an issue, especially for 6th grader Beomgyu who had the tendency to sleep the whole day. “I could’ve just told Mrs. Kim on Monday myself.”

Beomgyu shrugged as he fluffed the pillows and arranged your plushies on the bed. He hasn’t had his sudden growth spurt at that time so fitting in your old bed frame was still fairly easy then. “Knowing you and how long your groupmates have been bailing on you, you’d probably chicken out if Yunjin or I don’t do it ourselves or push you to do it.”

“No—“

“You know I’m right.“

You glared at him then, standing up from your desk to punch his arm. “I hate you.”

But he only rolled his eyes. “Then next time, I’ll try to not meddle that much anymore. Just…when our classmates are taking advantage of your kindness like this again, report it immediately, okay?” He nagged, his voice soft while his expression was determined. “Even if you don’t tell me directly, I know you’ve been having a hard time with that even more this year for some reason and, knowing you, you’d rather suck it up because you think you’re bothering people when you bring it up when you’re not.”

“That’s not true.”

“Y/N.” He squinted his eyes and pursed his lips.

You scoffed, climbing in the bed and laying down on the side next to the wall. “Okay, maybe sometimes it’s true.”

“Y/N.” He repeated your name in the same tone, lying next to you with your teddy bear in his arms. "Ms. Fluffy doesn't think so and I kind of agree with her."

You rolled your eyes in response, Beomgyu catching the gesture before he could turn off your bedside lamp. “Fine, fine. I admit it, I wasn’t—I wasn’t planning to tell Mrs. Kim because I thought my groupmates would get mad and think of me as a nuisance.” You winced at the admission, lifting your blanket up to your nose.

But Beomgyu was quick to stop your hand, flicking your forehead after. “Stop doing that. You literally did half of your paper, even the parts you weren’t assigned to. You’re far from a nuisance.” He retorted, tucking Ms. Fluffy the teddy bear next to you. “And Mrs. Kim’s job is literally to make sure we’re not having a hard time learning, she’d understand.”

That time, and most times when Beomgyu would be the one nagging you, you felt like shrinking under his fierce gaze. “I don’t want to get into trouble with anyone in class—“

“I’d fight anyone off for you if that happens."

“But I can handle myself if ever!”

“Now, you’re just contradicting yourself.” He pointed out with a chuckle, settling down next to you. “Just...next time, okay? You should never suffer in silence by choice, you’re better than that.”

You had no choice but to nod in agreement and fulfill your promise that very next Monday, talking to Mrs. Kim yourself to elaborate on the incident further with Beomgyu holding your hand the entire time.

Most of the time, it's sweet and thoughtful that your best friend looks out for you out of genuine concern. You can’t admit it to his face, knowing he’ll tease you endlessly for it, but you like Beomgyu having his full attention on you most of the time and how he can literally rival your family as the person who knows you best.

But alas, there are still numerous instances when it's caused you more harm than good to disastrous levels.

At the top of your head, there was that incident in the summer before your sophomore year when Yeji first set you up on a blind date with Theo, a friend of a friend from the Vocal Performance department.

You even made sure that Beomgyu wouldn't get anywhere near your bowling date, threatening all of your mutual friends to keep the agenda a secret over message (and free food for Taehyun and Hueningkai) and scheduling the date on the same weekend Beomgyu was going to take an exam for one of his summer classes.

However, when Theo briefly left you alone in your lane to buy snacks, a familiar mop of brown hair, black hoodie, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses suddenly whooshed in your peripheral vision, followed by two figures in hoodies you unmasked at the end of the night as Yeonjun and Soobin.

Another annoying thing that Beomgyu does is that when he’s “investigating” something—whether it’s a friend’s date or that time everyone thought Taehyun was secretly seeing someone—he always brings the same get-up of hoodie and thick-rimmed glasses along as "disguise." It's a stupid idea that first came to him when Yunjin went on her very first date in high school that he never bothered to change even when everyone started catching on, making it easier to spot him in your surroundings.

Though he didn't approach you until you approached him back in your dorms, it was still unnerving to spot him, Yeonjun, and Soobin playing five lanes away from you and your date. Their glances felt heavy on your back as the night went on.

"He was literally in two of your classes last semester. It's not like he's some stranger to you." You frowned at Beomgyu after letting Yeonjun and Soobin go with an earful of a speech of their own. Though you and Theo agreed that you clicked better as friends, you still lectured and nagged at your three friends in your dorm's communal kitchen with Beomgyu staying an hour longer than the other two. "How did you even get to the bowling alley? I thought you have an exam tonight?"

"My exam was only until 7 PM so I got Yeonjun to drive us to the bowling alley as soon as I got out. It was a celebratory thing for me too! That English final really kicked me in the ass, if you must know." Beomgyu answered with a pout, hands deep in his hoodie pockets and his glasses slipping on his nose. "And even if I do know Theo in passing, I don't know him that way. He’s more Yeji’s friend than mine. What if he was a shit dude when it comes to dates? What if he stood you up tonight or something?"

"You say that for all the people I like."

Beomgyu waved his hand dismissively in defense. "I only say that to the objectively trashy ones and the ones I don’t know enough about. Theo’s under the second category.”

"Still! You get what I mean!" You frowned as you smacked him on the back of his head, earning you a wince from him. "Gyu, once, just one date where you leave me alone. No disguises and no spam texts. Can you do that?"

There's a long pause that followed after with Beomgyu opening his mouth a couple of times only to close it back again, keeping you on edge for what felt like forever but was only for around five minutes.

He never told you what he was going to say at first or if he was even thinking of something else to say, you can just easily infer that it's different from what he actually ended up saying with the way his expression softened right before he finally spoke.

"Only if you tell me more about these things before you actually go on them. Even just the basic things are fine.” He frowned this time, crossing his arms. Even without you scanning every inch of his face, his expression easily gave away to the fact that he was thinking of saying something else but was trying his best to hold back. “I’m...I'm worried, okay? I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

"You know I can handle myself. We've been through this hundreds of times, I'm not that kid from the 4th grade who couldn't tell on my shit groupmates." You interjected, crossing your arms in front of the taller boy. "Anyway, if I ever need help, you're always the first one I'll call, you already know that."

He pouted down at you. "Sure?"

And you nodded with a laugh at his ridiculous expression, uncrossing your arms as you couldn't fight the amusement creeping up on you whenever Beomgyu tries to act cute anymore. "Positive."

So on the next two blind dates that Yeji set up for you that summer, you were pretty sure that Beomgyu only kept tabs on you through text as the hoodie and glasses were nowhere to be seen when you and your dates went out.

♡

On Beomgyu’s end, if he were to pick a top one habit of yours that he finds the most annoying it would be your tendency to hide your artworks from him until it’s finished when he’s always showing you his drafts.

Much like how you often try hiding your burdens, troubles, and blind dates from him, you often ban Beomgyu from seeing your drafts and sketches until the work itself is done which, as a fellow artist, makes him want to sneak up on you even more.

Especially when you think that you’ll be working on a particular project for a long time or if it’s in a medium you haven’t tried before, you’d often be blocking Beomgyu from seeing a peek of your plans out of a weird superstition that you might not finish anything if you hear a comment from him too early.

As your musician best friend who’s always showing you his own work even when it’s still disjointed lyrics and melodies in his head, Beomgyu sometimes thinks that you don’t trust him enough in something important as your own art. Without you knowing, it hurts him a bit sometimes because it’s as if he can’t be useful for you in that sense when you're always his most trusted critic when it comes to his music.

“It’s not like I can possibly make a bad comment.” Beomgyu insisted sometime during midterms as you talked over your senior thesis projects over dinner. It was almost 2 AM in your dorm’s communal kitchen, your mugs only half-filled with lukewarm chocolate when the boy asked if he could take a peek at your sketchbook after letting you hear some of his new music. “With you and your art? Impossible to make any bad comments I’m telling you!”

“Eh, but—“ Maybe it was the tiredness from having been up for 24 hours straight, trying to stay on top of your piling requirements, that unlike your usual response to Beomgyu’s pouting and puppy eyes, you decided to blurt out, “I just—I don’t know…I think too highly of your opinion.”

Beomgyu was effectively rendered frozen and speechless, missing the way you slouched your shoulders and hid your face behind your hair after your confession. “I—what?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.” You deadpanned, taking another sip of your chocolate next to him. At least with your shoulders touching, you couldn't see the way his expression unconsciously softened while listening to you. "It's already embarrassing enough as it is."

“But…but why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you think highly of my opinion? It’s just me.” Beomgyu chuckled nervously, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment as he spoke. “Not like I’m a professional artist or whatever.”

“Do I really have to say it?”

Beomgyu nodded, pursing his lips. "I'm being serious right now." He pretended to squint his eyes and furrow his brows and you rolled your eyes in response.

With a sigh, you then answered. “It’s exactly because you’re you. You’re Choi Beomgyu, the annoying kid from the neighborhood who just decided one day that he’d join me at the plastic tables in the playground when he saw me drawing flowers on my mom's notepad. The one who bought me my first oil paint set for Christmas in the 7th grade because he said he noticed how much I enjoyed it in our Art class. The one who always adds more compliments to my work along with actually helpful feedback even when I ask for criticisms only because he’s too nice for his own good but he’s also very intuitive.

“You…annoying as it is, you’re kind of very important in my art and it makes me nervous sometimes to show you anything before it’s complete because I think it has to be perfect and totally not disappointing even when you first see it. I only want you to see good things from me...”

While the silence that followed felt like an hour for you, it felt like forever in Beomgyu's mind as his thoughts flew to the memories as you mentioned them.

Much like you, he can also vividly remember how exactly you befriended each other at the playground then, when he complimented your doodle of the daisy bushes by the swings because you drew them a little too well for a five-year-old with broken crayons and an unsharpened pencil. You even complained to him that you can render the flowers better if you just didn't forget your sharpener at home, leading to a whole conversation that you continued at the swings where he offered to push you for the rest of that afternoon.

He remembers that 7th grade Christmas when he picked your name for the class Secret Santa and didn't even have to read more on the wishlist below your name because he was already set on buying you an oil paint set and some brushes to go with it outside of the classroom. He knew you were saving up to buy it in the summer yourself but he also knew that it'd make you even happier to get it six months earlier so it was easy for him to take money from his own savings that were supposed to go on a new ukulele.

But more importantly, his mind lingers to a memory you didn't mention, to that day outside of the teacher's lounge when you were first filling in your college applications. While your other friends were talking animatedly about what they were planning to do after your high school graduation, you were unusually quiet next to Beomgyu as you filled out your application which quickly prompted him to ask if you were okay.

"What did you put in your program?" He had asked after, leaning his head on your shoulder only for you to cover the top half of your application with your hands. "Ya, I want to see!"

"No, it's embarrassing!" You protested, moving the form away from his peering eyes when his hand tries to reach for it. "You'll know later anyway if I pass Seoul University!"

"You mean 'when' you pass." He corrected, resting his chin on your shoulder this time before peering up at you. "And why are you embarrassed over your program? It's not the most embarrassing choice you've made in front of me."

"Ya!"

"So what is it?"

You leaned away from him and Beomgyu found it weirdly strange to be on eye-level with you while seated after he's suddenly grown almost a head taller than you over the summer. "I might...do a double degree on Painting and Sculpture."

"What's embarrassing about that? If anything, I'd be surprised if those two are nowhere near your top five options." He raised a brow almost instinctively. "Y/N, a double degree's impressive as hell!"

"It's just that..." You stumbled shyly over your words, scratching the nape of your neck. "I don't know, it's a shot in the dark. It's not like I'm that good like how you're great with your music."

"That's bullshit. You've always been talented and hardworking when it comes to your art. If anything, it's me who's always trying to catch up with you." He countered immediately, sitting up straight with a serious expression on his face. "And it's something you love and want to learn more of so why would it be embarrassing? Be confident and own your passions, Y/N."

"They might not actually see that if I don't do well in the exams and the portfolio I turn in. For all we know, I suck compared to other people."

"You literally just won a mural competition last summer." Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "Admissions would be dumb to reject you."

Looking back on that memory almost four years ago, the revelation of what you really think of him makes Beomgyu's head spin that he had to quickly snap himself back to reality when you downed the last of your chocolate and mumbled how opening up was a mistake to yourself.

"I'm going to bed." You announced, rubbing your eyes tiredly and clutching your mug to your chest.

Before you could leave the table, however, Beomgyu quickly grabs onto your arm. "Wait, wait, no!"

"I'm tired as shit. You can rub my emotional comments on my face tomorrow morning."

"It's not that." Beomgyu frowned, tugging on your arm for you to sit down again. When you hesitantly follow along with him, he then continued, "It's just...is that why you tried hiding your application form from me back then?"

"I mean, I wasn't as confident in myself then as I am now and I had my other doubts about taking the program itself but...yeah, I guess." You shrugged slowly, looking everywhere but him. "I also thought that if I take both Painting and Sculpture, I have to make you proud no matter what."

On any other day, he would've teased you for it but he knew you'd probably smack his head on the table in that moment. So, instead, he held back on a smile and nudged you gently on the shoulder. "You make me proud no matter what you do." He assured. "And, if you must know, I also think highly of your opinion on my music...I guess we just show it in different ways.

"And if you're not ready to show me some of your new projects yet, it's okay. I can wait for all of them because I know they'll all turn out great."

You then looked up at him with raised brows. "Even if I make you wait until graduation for some of them?"

"I might ask Ryujin or Soobin to take photos of your progress for me if I have to wait that long." He joked, making you chuckle. "You know, the usual."

"Sure you will." You scoffed before picking up his mug on the table and standing up again. "Dude, come on, we really have to go to bed."

IV. WE KEEP SECRETS FROM EACH OTHER

It's not to say, however, that there aren't any instances when your roles are unwittingly reversed. Beomgyu also closes himself off from you and everyone else from time to time and you naturally end up being the nosy one banging on his door and demanding for him to at least let you know that he's eating well.

It's often when Beomgyu's stressed—when there's too much work to be done, especially in his music, or when he suddenly finds himself in a problem that he unusually doesn't share with you at the first encounter.

In these moments, you usually start noticing a week before he could even lock himself in his room and isolate himself from all of your friends. Especially since university began when you'd mostly meet in the day at lunch with your friends, he'd stop pestering you to elaborate more on a story you'd tell half-heartedly but he'll still hold your hand under the tables in front of all of your friends, squeezing it more often than usual out of anxiety.

And his smile never reaches his eyes when he's stressed, the same way his laugh would be quieter, an easy giveaway that he's going through something he's decided to keep on his own.

So as someone who's noticed his patterns over the years, you let him be at first, squeezing his hand back and initiating all the jokes in the group for him to finish with the punchline so he doesn't linger too much in his own thoughts.

Then when Hueningkai or Soobin do message you that Beomgyu hasn't left his room except to go to only half of his classes, you're quick to come up to his dorm with takeout and whatever project you're working on, knowing that what he really needs best in these moments is company.

There's times when Beomgyu acts extra bratty and doesn't let you in his personal space for a couple of days, a week at most like the time he was so stressed about Toto getting sick back in your Freshman year. It takes a lot of time out of your week and money from your weekly allowance buying him food but you wait patiently by his door anyway, catching up on your studies on the hallway floor if you're at the dorms or outside his room back in your neighborhood and occasionally knocking on his door to ensure that he's still alive.

But when he does let you in, opening the door just wide enough for you to see his bloodshot tired eyes and a blanket over his head, you take the initiative to open the door wider and hug him before anything else.

You almost never initiate skinship as much as you never share things until they're prodded out of you by Beomgyu, he knows that well so that's exactly what you do when you first see him in this state. All the time.

You don't speak until he lets you go and you're allowed to occupy his space with him. Back in your old neighborhood, you would put your things on his desk next to his own and work quietly until he decides to open up to you on his own accord.

Since college started, however, things have been slightly different in that once you're in the room, you'd sit on his bed first and let him hug you until he's ready to talk. If his roommate, Hueningkai, would be there at the end of the day, you'd throw a shoe at the younger boy and ask him to come back after dinner with the promise that you'd play Mario Kart with him the next weekend.

When Beomgyu's stressed, he likes it better when it's just the two of you, your exact opposite since you'd rather have all of your close friends with you on a hangout when you're in a similar state of mind.

The most stressed Beomgyu has been in college was when he was finishing the first official album for TXT, the band he formed with Yeonjun, Soobin, Taehyun, and Hueningkai in the summer before your freshman year. It was in the second semester of your junior year, when both of you were also preparing for internship applications on top of academics and the clubs piling one on top of each other that you sort of saw this coming as soon as you felt stressed out yourself.

Beomgyu only let you in his dorm room on your fifth day of camping out, crying out his frustrations on your shoulders for almost two hours that you had to change into one of his shirts after and ask Hueningkai to bring up a whole pitcher of water for your best friend to drink over dinner.

"I—I...I just...I can't! I can't finish the songs! I'm going insane!" He exclaimed on your shoulder, his cries muffled against you but you don't mind as you continue rubbing his back in circles and reminding him to breathe. "And...and nothing's been going my way these days! Not in my classes, not in the radio show or on the soccer team! I'm just...I'm just so out of it, Y/N!"

You hummed comfortingly, carefully moving both him and yourself so you're both sitting up properly once more. You then pointed to his open laptop and computer screens on the desk across the room with a small smile, "I can see your progress from here, though. You've been doing well. You're trying and getting things done, that's what matters."

"It's not all that good..."

You shook your head almost immediately, handing him another pack of tissues you've brought with you before discarding the used ones in the nearby trash bin. "Yes, it is! I've heard the drafts before you locked yourself up in here, they're all great." You retorted, tilting your head when he buries his face in the crook of your neck once more. "I think I like Thursday's Child Has Far To Go and Maze in the Mirror the most. They're very you.

"And about your classes and clubs, just take your time with them. Soobin and I e-mailed some of your profs already, Jeongin and Tae are handling the radio show well, and I'm sure Sunwoo and the rest of the soccer team would understand your absence for now.

"For now, just do what you want to do. Rest if you want to rest. If you want to focus on the band, then that's fine too. Everything will align themselves in time, just please don't forget to take care of yourself."

"And if they don't? Align themselves in time, I mean?"

His breathing was ragged then from all of the crying and his eyes the reddest and puffiest you've ever seen them. You figured from then on that you really hate seeing Beomgyu cry in frustration the most.

"They will, I promise. They always do with you." You replied without thinking, hesitantly patting his head and gently wiping his tears with your thumbs. "And you know I'll stay with you here until you're satisfied with your progress. Or at least for a couple of days because I have tons of presentations next week."

He sniffled a bit, spraying his hands with alcohol and adjusting the blanket wrapped around him. "W-What are you going to work on in a bit?"

You scoffed, already expecting that he'd ask. "I brought a project for my Sculpture II class, if that's okay. I also brought newspapers so I don't make a mess on the floor." You answered anyway, chuckling when his eyes immediately lit up. "You've been bugging me about it so I thought I can show you the my progress just this once to cheer you up."

And as if a light switch was turned, the glossiness previously in his eyes suddenly looked like sparkles as he sat up straight. "I could smother your face in kisses right now."

"Wipe that snot off of your nose first." You pretended to cringe when he dramatically opened his arms wide and puckered his lips. At that moment, you immediately knew that he was feeling a bit better, at least. "Geez, sometimes, I think you just sulk sometimes to get me to come here and show you my works early."

"I'm not that evil!" He pouted, taking the weighted blanket off of his back and getting off the bed. "Though, now that you've suggested it..."

A pillow then quickly landed on his face. "Choi Beomgyu!"

So you spent three nights at Beomgyu and Hueningkai's dorm room, working on a bust of Yeonjun (it's a long story involving you losing a bet to him at your last group hangout) on the floor while Beomgyu finished the final edits to TXT's songs. You then go back to your own dorm room before breakfast to freshen up for your class then come back again after your classes, often around 4 PM.

And when Beomgyu finally caught up with his classes and extra-curriculars, he surprised you with an invitation to TXT's surprise album launch over a month later.

Another thing about Beomgyu is that he's strangely great with surprises, preparing elaborate plans for occasions like your birthday, the holidays, or when he's bounced back from a difficult situation right under your nose.

Initially, the boys only told you that they'd release the album after finals week and play it at the year-end school festival, the first time they would be performing a full set of original songs. Though you, Yeji, Ryujin, and Yunjin insisted that they should do a proper album launch, all five of the boys just kept saying excuses or shifting the topic to something else.

On your last official school day for that semester, however, you suddenly received a notification from TXT's social medias about a surprise album launch at a cafe you frequent with all of your friends and a personal message from Beomgyu telling you to come over 30 minutes before the show.

So in retaliation, you made sure to stop over at the nearest flower shop with the girls and surprise Beomgyu with at least a congratulatory bouquet of roses, the same size as the one he gave you all of those years ago.

Said bouquet almost getting ruined when Beomgyu hugged you the moment you entered the cafe.

"You came!" He exclaimed giddily on your neck, almost toppling you to the ground as his arms encircled your waist. "You came! You came! You came!"

You scoffed, taking a moment to regain your footing as you rested your cheek against your best friend and carefully held the bouquet behind his head. "Of course I'd come. I'm your number one fan."

"Sure you are." He feigned a sniffle before tilting his head away to press a kiss to your cheek. "But still, thank you for coming. This means a lot to me."

"I know."

"You helped finished this album."

"I doubt that. I just worked with you in silence for three days straight."

He shook his head fervently, pulling away from you fully by then and leading you to the makeshift stage across the room. "You helped me refocus and get back on my feet so I can finish everything. I think you helped big time." He retorted before picking up his guitar from its stand. "Anyway, I have another surprise!"

"I only got you one." You feigned a frown while shaking the bouquet in your hands, making him chuckle before occupying the empty high stool next to him. "I'll have to get back at you again after this."

"You're already doing so much for me coming here tonight. And you bought me really expensive flowers!" He assured, strumming the guitar a few times. When you then opened your mouth to retort, he quickly interjected, "Anyway, I wrote this song for you! I'm still thinking if I want us to perform this later but I really just want to play it for you right now before anything."

So in the middle of that cafe, while your friends ran around preparing the decorations and doing soundchecks, Beomgyu sang his song, "Nap of a Star," with his guitar on his lap and his phone with the lyrics on the music stand.

"I can see even without you in front of me. I feel you, even without saying anything. Because I believe in you, even if I'm anxious

"I can touch even without you in front of my eyes. I reach even if you go far away from me. Just by remembering you, my heart always dances like before

"I want to become your nap and dream together always as if nothing happened. The evening sunset and the darkened night sky, my heart is full of you."

He occasionally giggled and fumbled on the guitar a bit everytime he glanced over in your general direction but he finished the song with you nearly in tears, something you instinctively hid by smacking him in the arm once the guitar was out of the way.

"You jerk! You wrote that for me? Are you sure?" You exclaimed, rapidly blinking back tears. "And I only got you flowers today! God, you're making me look like a bad friend!"

He rolled his eyes, getting down from the high stool and standing in front of you. With your own chair's height, you were easily at eye-level with him as he smiled at you. "I already told you, just coming over to hear us is already enough. Don't worry about it." He assured. "Anyway, what did you think of the song?"

"It's beautiful, of course." You scoffed half-heartedly, making him chuckle. "Was that night walk in the lyrics about—?"

"That night walk at the art fair? Yeah." He grinned shyly, rubbing the nape of his neck.

Once, in the 9th grade, you had a big fight with Beomgyu over Areum, at that point his ex-girlfriend. What you both do remember the most about it is how it happened on the week before a planned trip to an art fair in the busier district of Seoul that you were really excited about.

Though you were pretty sure that you weren't on speaking terms with him that time, he still showed up at the bus stop on the day itself, prompting you to apologize to each other before heading to the art fair together.

"You were crying like shit in public that we had to move to a more secluded area because people were looking. Then, you almost choked me to death with your hug." You recalled in confusion. "Not like I was any better but..."

"I put it in because I really thought our friendship was over then." He explained with a pout. "Then the first words we told each other when you saw me at the bus stop were apologies and...ah, it's very cheesy but I just think back to that time whenever I miss you. I think it's one of those moments I remember when I think of our bond."

You smack him again, this time directly on his chest, but the tears also flow freely this time. "God, you're so...you're so poetic and annoying! And you're making me cry!"

"I take that as a win." He laughed deeply as he hugged you, one hand rubbing your back soothingly while the other cupped your face and wiped your tears gently.

"How can you even say those things without crying? We've been friends for almost 16 years, damn it, Gyu." You mumbled in his plaid shirt, hugging him back. "I-I really love the song…”

"Years of practice on how to say it properly, actually." He joked half-heartedly, rubbing your back even more and mumbling to a passing Soobin something about the last preparations for the album launch. "That's why I do all the talking for us."

V. I LOVE YOU TOO MUCH

Your thesis for your Painting degree, you realize right before the Winter break this senior year, is the perfect surprise to get back at Beomgyu. While you've briefly mentioned that you'll have to take an extra year to complete your Sculpture degree's senior thesis, you're focusing on your Painting degree in your 4th year and have miraculously kept it under wraps from everyone including your best friend because everything's been hidden in your laptop and at the studios.

At the same time, it sort of fits. Though overall, most of the studies, actual finished works, and research you've done so far for your thesis are focused on human relationships overall, traces of Beomgyu have been slipping in here and there, reminding you that it's quite hard to paint anything about your friends or your first love without him.

He's in the series of studies you did of all of your friend groups, in a watercolor rendition of the faces you remember from your old neighborhood's playground, and even in a charcoal rendition of your favorite romance book characters as your thesis advisor suggested that you try and explore.

And he's in even more finished works and abandoned sketches way before that, some you unconvered in your old binders while researching for your thesis.

It could just be the extra hustle and bustle of your senior year, with you and all of your friends busier than ever as you work on your final year. Not to mention, you still have to prepare balancing a job at the university museum with your fifth year classes next year and Beomgyu's been busy putting out new music with TXT and discussing a junior producer position at an entertainment company.

But it's been almost a whole month since you last went to a proper lunch (one that isn't jut coffee and convenience store ramen) with any of your friends which is a whole record for you and Beomgyu, in particular. You're probably just missing the guy a bit too much these days that even just getting his daily cheer up messages has been messing with your thoughts all over again.

(Not that it doesn't mess you up on any normal day. It's just a tad bit extra now that you haven't seen his face around in a while)

So when you brought up to your thesis advisor the idea of painting a portrait of Beomgyu, the studies of which you would gift him for Christmas then remake as a proper oil painting for your thesis after the Winter break, there wasn't much of a complaint on her part.

Hell, you might even suspect that Prof Kim, a mentor whom you've also had in past studio classes, has been secretly rooting for you this whole time after years of always seeing Beomgyu randomly pop up around the department building.

"And what kind of relationship will a portrait of Choi Beomgyu represent in your exhibit?" She asked on Monday with a teasing glint in her eyes, a copy of your project research in her hands.

Your face heated up in an instant as you fumbled over your words, something you quickly excuse as a reaction related to the snow outside. "I—well...I'll figure that out later which I know is a cop out answer academically but I'll connect it to something in my RRL later, I promise!"

Prof Kim chuckled, closing her binder. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Personally, I think you already have it in your RRL and project proposal, you just need to make a more explicit mention of your friend in the paper moving forward since he'll be a subject in one of your finished works."

You nodded sheepishly, quickly gathering your things and standing up to bow at your advisor. "I'll e-mail you my progress again next week before the break!"

"No, no, it's okay! Just e-mail me after the holidays, I won't deduct grades or anything!"

A few days later, you're on the floor of your dorm room with Ryujin and Yeji cramming their own choreographies for their respective senior theses in another corner of the room while you finished your second study of Beomgyu, using your most recent photos as a reference.

The small 12x16 canvas you were working on sat comfortably on an equally small easel on your work desk, another canvas of the same dimensions drying by the windowsill next to a pile of old photos at the same time. Since your thesis would only require photos of your studies, you figured that you can give all of them to Beomgyu then make an extra oil painting of the two of you, knowing that he'd probably shy away (after making egotistical jokes, of course) if it's all just him.

"So what would the final painting be?" Ryujin suddenly asked as Yeji pauses the music for a five-minute break, approaching you as she drinks a bottle of cold water. "They're all so different."

You glanced over your shoulder and frown. "That's the thing, I'm not really sure how I want to paint him in the final work."

"Why?" Yeji asked this time, sitting cross-legged on a nearby mat.

You shrugged in response. "I don't know. Honestly, I thought if I do some studies, I'd get a clearer idea but I'm already three paintings in and I still have no plan of action for the one that actually counts to a grade." You sighed, turning your attention back to your unfinished painting.

"At least you have the Christmas gift ready!" Ryujin half-heartedly joked, sitting on an empty chair next to you. On your peripheral vision, you also caught Yeji nodding with a hopeful smile. "You don't have to paint the final work until after the break, anyway."

"Yeah, but it's the one that's going to be displayed at the exhibit at the end of the year." You pointed out matter-of-factly, carefully finishing the last layer of your painting. "And it has to be perfect."

"Maybe you can work something out over the break? You're going home to your neighborhood with Beomgyu and spending more time with him, anyway." Yeji suggested next. "Maybe then you'll have a clearer idea, hm?"

And Yeji was definitely right, as she always is, when you do go home to your old neighborhood with Beomgyu after the last official school day of the semester and find yourself hanging out in his childhood bedroom on the days leading up to Christmas much like the old days.

The idea comes to you on the afternoon of Christmas Eve almost two weeks later, when you invited yourself at the Choi's once more to listen to TXT's new songs and catch up with Toto. You sat cross-legged on Beomgyu's bed with your own earphones connected to his laptop and a live-sketch of the boy in his favorite green plaid shirt and freshly cut and dyed black hair on your lap.

Glancing over at him and seeing the way his eyes sparkled as you listened to "Way Home," it was a rather quick revelation to you that the best way to paint your best friend is in his most comfortable state. Just like this: when it's just the two of you drawing and listening to music, basking in the comfort of each other's company.

So you looked back at him again as the song transitioned to "Blue Hour," trying to take in as much of his features in that moment as much as you can. The faint sunlight coming in through the fogged up windows, Beomgyu's messy hair and skewed reading glasses, his hand propped up on his desk as he rested his cheek on his palm, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he worked only to consciously soften them when he looks at you, the way he talked animatedly about certain parts of the song with a boyish but proud grin on his lips.

Before you can even listen to the third song, you were already placing your hand on his upper arm and asking him to stay still for a moment.

"Why?" He asked, blinking twice while his hands go to pausing the song on his laptop anyway.

"I'm trying to memorize your face in this light." You answered absentmindedly, turning to a fresh page on your sketchbook and looking at him for a minute longer before removing your hand from him. "Okay."

"Okay?" He chuckled nervously. "What was that for? Are you going to send the mafia to kill me or something?"

You rolled your eyes, folding your knees closer to your chest to hide your sketchbook as you start anew. "It's a secret."

He then tried peering over your shoulder, moving the chair he was sitting on closer to the bed. "Are you drawing me?"

"Maybe." You teased with a smirk before pulling the sketchbook closer to your chest when he tried peering again. "Play the next song, Gyu."

Painting him in another solo portrait then on one of the two of you after that was relatively quick and easy as you finished your final gifts on Christmas Day while Beomgyu and his family went to a reunion out of town. While the last painting study, the one you'll render to a bigger canvas after the break, is him looking back at you fondly on that Christmas Eve afternoon, the additional painting of the two of you was from a candid photo Taehyun took when Beomgu played you Nap of a Star.

So now, here you are, in your room this time with the portraits gift-wrapped on the foot of your bed while your best friend handed you a late Christmas gift of his own.

"I was going to make it on my computer at first since everyone was sending in pictures on chats but then Yeonjun said that it might end up looking like the slideshows you have at funerals even with my superior editing skills." Beomgyu explained with a nervous chuckle as you unwrapped the gift, finding a thick scrapbook of all of your memories and mementos growing up. "Since everything else of you that I have—the pictures, the craft store receipts, Lotte World tickets, and everything—are all in boxes at home and at the dorms, I just thought I'd print the pictures I got from our friends and instead of scanning the things I already have then make it into a physical scrapbook.

"You did always say that you want to make one someday but we never really had the time so I thought I'd start it for you and, surprisingly, there are too many things in my own space that are yours or remind me of you."

You browse through the abnormally thick book in surprise and amusement, not even knowing that Beomgyu's kept even the simplest scraps of paper related to you after all these years. From the pictures his mom took of the two of you for every first day of school until the 12th grade to the candid photos he's taken of you over the years on his phone (regardless of how unflattering they are—you make sure to smack him in the arm everytime you come across one as you continue browsing) to notes you'd leave on his locker whenever he missed school and all the Christmas tags you've put on your previous gifts, it's the most detailed history of the two of you from when you met up until the present, complete with small captions handwritten by the boy himself.

So much so that you even linger on some of the pages you never thought you'd see, including the sketch you drew that day on the playground, the first note he passed you in class in the 1st grade, and a copy of the front page of the Science paper you crammed with him in the 6th grade.

"How did you even get some of these?" You ask, pointing to a photo of the two of you from your first Christmas together you somehow forgot existed. It was in the 1st grade when the Chois had to cancel going to their annual family reunion because of Mr. Choi's work so your families ended up watching the neighborhood fireworks display together. "I don't even think I have a copy of this!"

"That's from my mom! Also took her a long time to find on her phone." Beomgyu grins before turning to another page just full of flattened flowers, mostly daisies and roses. "And these are from all the bouquets you've bought me for recitals, graduations, and our first album launch! I kept at least one of everything because I wanted to use them in a project someday but I wasn't really sure what until I got the idea to make you a scrapbook."

"How did you even decide to give me a scrapbook for Christmas? And going through all the trouble of asking everyone we know for extra pictures? I thought you were busy with the band and your thesis?" You ask next, turning to the last page and finding a bunch of old letters and old invitations, the one from your senior prom standing out. By this point, it was hard to keep the stray tears at bay as you sniffle, making Beomgyu laugh before passing you tissues.

You went with all of your friends back then but you only danced alone with Beomgyu, somehow deluding yourself into thinking that he would confess and reciprocate your feelings.

But he never did, holding himself back from saying anymore in front of your house and simply kissing your forehead at the end of the night, and that was probably the only time you cried over the boy for that reason.

Beomgyu scratches his head and smiles sheepishly before slowly gesturing over to your wrapped gift for him. "A-Ah, well...Ryujin may or may not have mentioned something about you slaving away the past few weeks for your gift."

Your jaw slacks. "Are you serious?"

Before you could protest even more, however, Beomgyu's quick to raise his hands up in defense and interject, "Well, to be fair, I got the original idea of a simple scrapbook with everything I have way before Ryujin approached me! Then she mentioned sometime ago how hard you were working on my Christmas present that I had to up the stakes and ask for more pictures and stuff from everyone else after.

"And it wasn't that time consuming, actually! Everyone was happy to share photos and even some stories about you which I wrote in some of the entries because I thought it was sweet. Just...I want you to feel absolutely loved with this gift.

"And I mean, isn't it also nice seeing us from other people's point of view?" He points out next, flipping back to the pages mainly dedicated to photos of you and your mutual friends mixed in with photos they took of you. "It's also kind of a gift from everyone else in that sense."

You wipe another set of stray tears, making Beomgyu pout and reach a hand up to help you.

"Are you okay—?"

"I love it so much." You sniffle, smacking his arm before hugging the scrapbook to your chest. "Thank you, Gyu."

He heaves a sigh of relief, clutching his chest with his free hand. "There are still some blank pages towards the end. I figured you can put your own stuff in it if since I know you keep some things in the box under the bed." He suggests, patting the bed as if to gesture to the boxes you keep under it. "Or if you want, we can just fill it with new stuff later."

"Will you help me add in my own things?"

He nods with a bright smile. "We can do it before dinner with your parents." He then reaches towards the opposite end of the bed and picks up his gift, shaking it in front of him and asking next, "Should I open my gift in the meantime?"

"Yes, please. I can't be the only one crying right now." You nod with a chuckle, moving the scrapbook to your bedside table and helping him remove the tapes all over his gift.

"Before you make your usual complaint that it's too much, it's also actually part of my senior thesis for my Painting degree. Remember how I mentioned last time that I decided to make two separate theses for my programs? So, these are studies for one of my final paintings." You explain as the paintings come into view, Beomgyu's eyes widening and his jaw slacking in an instant.

"Woah..." He breathes, laying the canvases next to each other gently. “This is...this is amazing!"

"And there's one of the two of us. Look." You point at the last painting with a small smile. "The reference is from a photo Taehyun sent to our chat after the album launch."

"A-And...and where are the other portraits from?" He asks in a lower voice after a moment, eyes sparkling when he looks up at you again.

You gulp down any feelings of wanting to melt on the spot, pointing to each painting as you answer, "The first portrait's from a photo I took at your last gig, the second one's from last summer when we went to Haeundae beach, and the third one's from just the other day when you were letting me listen to your new music."

He points to the last one shyly, his cheeks flushed pink as the two of you look over at the painting of him listening to music on his headphones with a small smile on his face. "This was in my room?"

You nod, equally shy now that he's asking the questions upfront. "I-I just figured...you looked so warm and cozy then and that's always how I remember you so...yeah. That's also the one I'll be painting in the final work that's going in my thesis."

"Really?" His eyes widen even more, to which you simply nod once more before briefly looking away from him.

"Yeah, because my thesis is mostly on human relationships and, really, the rationale in all of these paintings is that I wanted to portray you as how you are in my eyes which is—"

Before you could even finish your thought, however, Beomgyu's oversized hoodie engulfs you and his lips land on your cheek. Then he gives you another peck, this time on a spot just slightly higher on the same cheek.

Then another, and another, before moving to another cheek. "You're amazing. I love you so much." He whispers against your skin dangerously close to your lips, almost as if he was telling you a very important secret.

And you know he means it differently than the other times he casually says it to you when he doesn't laugh excitedly between his words or jokingly force you to say it back as he would often do.

Instead, he punctuates the declaration by cupping your face gently and repeating the words again. "I love you so much. I love you the most." He sighs, meeting your gaze desperately.

And it's probably the years of knowing him that he doesn't have to elaborate on it further for you to catch on. At the same time, you feel a weight lift itself off of your shoulders at this, one that you haven't even realized you've been carrying along with you this whole time, hugging the boy back tighter with your arms on his waist in response.

“Can I?” He asks next, stroking your cheek with his thumb as his eyes momentarily flickers down to your lips.

You nod with a soft hum almost instantly, tilting your face as he closes the gap between your lips.

Beomgyu kisses you like it's the most natural thing in the world for him to do, his lips feeling comforting on top of yours as he conveys every built up feeling and all the kinds of love he’s had for you in the past 16 years and receives the same back from you.

And all negative thoughts you’ve had, worries that your best friend will never look at you the same way you’ve always hoped for him to, are immediately thrown off the window and replaced by the assurance that Choi Beomgyu, the nuisance who’s been affectionately stuck to your hip since day one, is in love with you.

"I love you." He repeats, voice muffled towards the end as he gives you another fleeting kiss before rubbing your noses together. "You know what I mean, right?"

"I love you too." You reply on your own accord, panting slightly as you fill your lungs in with air and biting your lip as you feel your face heat up after. "I outlined it out at the bottom of our painting too with my signature, in case you didn't spot it."

"Ya, I did." He chuckles sheepishly, briefly moving to sit away to put your paintings on the side of the bed. Before the space he previously occupied in front of you grows cold, his arms are back around you once more as he tackles you down on the bed. "I'll hang all of them in my dorm when we get back."

"You can't nail things to the walls then graduate. That's not how it works." You laugh with a shake of your head, encircling your arms on his neck as he props himself on his elbows on top of you. When he laughs along, something in your heart stirs happily at how the two of you could go from intimate to casual so smoothly, assuring you that nothing much is going to change—just now with more-than-friendly kisses and the assurance that your best friend feels the same about you. "Anyway, they're all small enough to go on your desk at the dorms and at the studio."

"Then I'll put them on my work desk at the studio. Everyone has to know I have a really talented partner."

"Partner?" You scoff teasingly against the sudden rapid beating of your heart, playfully pushing him away. "I'm your significant other now?"

"Didn't I make it clear enough with the kisses and the hug? Not even with the fact that I've been sticking by you my entire life?" He feigns a pout as he easily rolls the two of you over with you comfortably on top of him now. "Should we make out instead?"

Your face heats up more at the comment, eyes widening when he does press a longer kiss on your lips and even manages to open your mouth while you’re distracted. "That's also not how it works, Gyu!" You manage to successfully push him away and roll your eyes, hiding your face in his chest in embarrassment.

"Then will you be my significant other? I'll take care of you like I always have, just with more kisses! Maybe some other things too like just five seconds ago." He dramatically asks with a smirk, teasingly prying your hands away from your face. "What? You wanted me to ask!"

"What happened to having shit taste in people and dating each other being an insult, then?” You tease one last time, making him groan. "Or not liking anyone I like, hm? You’re kind of contradicting yourself here.”

"We’re contradicting ourselves. I think I know enough Math to know that negatives cancel each other out." He retorts before leaning down for another kiss and resting his head on your chest after.

"But you suck at Math.”

"Do you want help with the scrapbook or not?"

VI. (epilogue) MAYBE WE WORK A LITTLE TOO WELL

A big bouquet of red roses and sunflowers is dropped in your arms by Beomgyu for the second time in your life, purposeful this time as he follows it with a an extra daisy tucked in your ear and a kiss.

"Congratulations on the exhibit, baby!" He greets you giddily after with a grin and a soft pat on your head. "I’m so proud of you! You’ve worked so hard!”

"Ew, ew, ew, not in front of us, please." Hueningkai complains, hiding behind Yeonjun and Taehyun as you lead your friends around your thesis exhibit. “I’m a child!”

You roll your eyes, draping your free arm around Beomgyu's waist anyway as Ryujin and Yeji wander off to the portraits you made of your family while the boys approach your studies on your high school and college friends.

"I have another surprise, by the way!" Your boyfriend speaks up again, taking out his phone and placing an earphone on your left ear. "I may or may not have gotten the idea from that time you were finishing up your thesis in the studio."

"I'm fucking scared." You joke, adjusting the earphone anyway while he wears the right bud on his right ear. "What is this?"

From what you can remember of those all-nighters two weeks ago, you brought your remaining works in his studio to work with him in the same space. While Beomgyu was winding down from having just finished his own thesis and recording the demo for a new song, you were trying to work quietly in your own corner, alternating between singing TXT's old songs to yourself or mumbling about how you were going to present the written part of your thesis to Prof Kim.

You also remember making out on the studio sofa while you’re on break but you’re pretty sure (well, you’re hoping your boyfriend's not insane like that) that it’s not anything remotely related to that in particular.

Beomgyu then takes your hand, leading you to where Yeji and Ryujin are. "Let's start here. I followed your gallery's pamphlet but modified it a bit towards the end so we'll end up in the painting you made of us."

And when you do stop in front of the painting series, that of your family over the years, Beomgyu's pre-recorded voice rings through your ears.

"Hello and welcome to "Why We Work,” a senior thesis by artist and my beautiful, beautiful partner, Y/N Y/L/N." Beomgyu proudly announces in the recording, making you laugh out loud in an instant. Faint in the background, you can distinctly hear Maze in the Mirror's instrumentals playing. "Y/N, baby, are you tuning in? Congratulations on finally finishing your Painting thesis! I made you an audio guide!”

You smack the real Beomgyu on his arm as you try and regain your composure. "Ya, you brat! What is this?”

He only giggles in response, making a shushing gesture dramatically. "Shh, just continue listening in. I made it for the whole gallery."

You roll your eyes but tune in anyway, responding well to the commentary as you walk with Beomgyu and even discussing some of the works yourself live and more in-depth.

“This was really sweet of you.”

“It is sweet of me, you’re welcome.” He teases, earning him another smack on the arm.

taglist: @wccycc @4beomy

[shewhowas39]

get to know June (my durge)

so i've been working on Juniper & Starlight for a couple months now and idk just thought it'd be fun to do a little write up on June, my dark urge.

***

Name: Juniper Acadia (tho she currently only remembers her first name)

Pronouns: she/her

Age: about 26

Race: i mean, technically Bhaalspawn, but she appears to be a half-elf.

Class: Wizard, School of Divination subclass (tho she does multiclass later, but that's a spoiler)

Alignment: neutral good

Highest Stat: intelligence (closely followed by wisdom)

Lowest Stat: strength (she's more dexterous)

Love Interest: Astarion

Best Friend: Shadowheart (and Scratch)

Height: 5'11" (181cm)

Body Type: June is built like a runner, so slim but not skinny, and with long legs that are more toned than the rest of her body.

Skin: very pale. about as pale as Astarion but with pink undertones.

Hair: Dark, ashy blond and VERY curly, falling to about her mid-back. her hair is thick and there's a lot of it, so it's probablyt he feature most people notice about her first.

Eyes: her eyes are large and round, but what stands out about them is that they are set quite far apart on her face and are an unusually dark, vivid blue.

Face Claim: a young Michelle Pfeiffer, but with rounder, darker blue eyes, somewhat paler skin, and MUCH curlier hair.

Other Notable Appearance Details: her black eyeliner/mascara is almost always running from where she's been crying. she also has Ilmater's holy symbol tattooed on the back of her neck, though she currently has no memory of when, why, or how she got this.

Favorite Color: deep, vibrant purple (like amethyst) as well as sort of a magenta-y pink.

Greatest Passion: history! she loves all knowledge. she's a smart cookie who is very curious about everything, but her passion is history.

Biggest Fear: her own inner darkness/bloodlust. she's terrified of the things she is capable of.

Some Random Facts:

the way her urges and her divination magic manifests causes June to feel like she sometimes experiences time out of order. the present often feels like a dream, making it hard to tell her hallucinations and prophetic visions from reality. it's not fun.

prior to the amnesia, June worked as a sort of tour guide in Baldur's Gate, showing the city's visitors the most notable historical sites. her favorite was the cemetery. (this is also how she found victims.)

her accent would be the same as a norhern Louisiana accent in the real world. it stands out among most people on the Sword Coast, but it's from a small, rural town where she was raised by her adoptive family.

her adoptive family were also half-elves, both of wood elven descent. she had two siblings, both also named after types of trees: Willow and Ash.

June has two core beliefs that drive her: first, never lie to a friend. even if it's dangerous, even if it hurts, once someone is her friend, she feels she owes them the truth. second, everyone deserves a chance at redemption....except for her. (and also probably Cazador.)

she cries a lot. to the point where it's kind of a joke. sometimes it's out of fear, sometimes out of empathy, and sometimes just becaus she's so freaking overhwelmed by the constnat shifts in time and place and her inability to graps onto reality. thus the running mascara at all times.

so that's June. she's currently being a sweet, bloodthirsty, nerdy hot mess in my longfic as well as in a few smutty oneshots you can find on my Ao3.

this isn't a tag, exactly, but if anyone else wants to hop on and use this format, i highly encourage it! i love reading about other people's durges and tavs.

[nerves-nebula]

So other than Leo's pupeteering, does anyone else get mystic powers?

Are they different naturally? Are they chosen? Do they have to do with personality or roles since Leo's puppeteering mirrors his control over the others? Are they going to be highlighted in future arcs? I'm really curious.

THEY DO GET POWERS, I'm just BAD AT coming up with them. they'll get their time, i promise.

each persons powers are unique, though the way their powers manifest changes based on life circumstances (like, if a persons core values change, if the way they see fighting or having powers change, if they become more or less mentally stable, that kind of stuff)

I'm still working on everyone's power sets but since it's been so long I'll just show you an excerpt from what I have written down rn. be warned tho it's kind of messy, it wasn't formatted for people other than me to read hah. the bold words are the temporary names for their powers.

Leo: Bonds (control)- puppeteering/minor possession (he can (sort of) posses/embody/control people) (works better on family members), ability to command people into action & buff their strength/skills (the buffs are stronger with consent and mostly apply to family members, but he can use them to trip up enemies for a second by attempting to possess them and disorienting them) his power manifests as either shackles/chains or ropes of silk, depending on his intentions. She can also use her puppets senses but thats mostly just a distraction at first and only comes into play later on when she gets better at working with her siblings.

Raph: Redirect (Deflection) -  Can deflect the power of an attack with his body/shields, and send the power behind it ricocheting away (can’t control the ricochet very well) his shields take the form of body doubles, everyone is constantly watching different versions of him being ripped apart. He can also make “armor” (idk how else to describe it) for his weapons which makes them stronger.

Mikey: Fury (destruction) - basically fire bending with mystic fire + the ability to summon fire creatures to help him. Powers fluctuate based on the strength of his convictions, he often thinks about his righteous fury against splinter or love for his brothers to fuel his powers. 

Donnie: Bolt (escapism) portals (self explanatory)/technopathy. The ability to imbue creations with energy that buffs whatever they were built to do. The only power that lingers after he stops actively using it, very useful!.

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Some towl thoughts so far:

It's so good to see Rick actually being in love with Michonne. Like we knew they were in love, but we didn't really get to see just how deeply. At least on his end.

Rick dreams in a romcom format. His brain is a romcom. Idk why but that is the weirdest thing to learn about him. On the inside I am just a good ole lover boy. On the outside? A murderer.

So did Rick draw the lil pictures of Michonne and Judith? Before I thought it might've been Jadis but he hasn't been hanging out with her at all. His art style is fuckin cute. Idk why he draws Jude like that though. That's what she looks like now, but she was like 5 last time he saw her...

CRM rly makes everything our group ever did look like small potatoes... "We fought some bad guys and built a network of farming communities! We're rebuilding the whole world!" "We blew up the military and saved 200000 people. We have modern infrastructure and power. There's two more places just like us also." Like fuck dude ok.

Forbidden Rick backstory?? He was a farm kid? He saw his dad get burned alive? What? Rick the kinda guy to tell you all the details of his childhood vacation to Cornwall but fail to mention the time he killed God or something

New guy got sploded :(

Why did Michonne take Rick's helmet off?! Thank GOD she did?! She didn't take anybody else's off before killing them! Girl can you imagine?!

This episode was GOOD but it was a gigantic infodump. But it's ok all I wanted was sergeant sad eyes and boy howdy did we get him

[xiaoriae]

SIMON SAYS.

— PAIRING ; alhaitham x gn!reader

— GENRE ; borderline platonic relationship and fluff.

— WORD COUNT ; 0.9k

— SUMMARY ; alhaitham thought he needed to remind you that this one bad habit of yours should not be a thing for your future assignment under his supervision.

— CONTENT ; akademiya student!reader, the setting is at the library in the middle of the night, reader is alhaitham’s student/apprentice (idk anymore), alhaitham calls reader as angel twice, nothing too vague except that alhaitham is quite bold near the end.

— NOTES ; this is a repost from my old blog! i am quite sorry if alhaitham is slightly ooc, i wrote this piece way before he was officially playable, or that i wrote this when he was like just out in the game.

disclaimer: some things from the scenario aren’t aligned with the real lore alhaitham has in-game, so please, take this with a grain of salt!

“simon says do not procrastinate.”

“excuse me?” you halted whatever things your hands were currently doing, before alhaitham quietly sat in front of you, body facing directly at your side, all papers were scattered throughout the table. even when it was already dark outside, this was the consequence you had to face; staying up late to finish your report.

beside the dimmed light coming from the lantern to illuminate his strikingly built figure, one thing was clear enough to you. he was scolding you behind those childish words.

“you’re so... unbelievable,” you sighed. “if i must say so myself.”

“oh?” alhaitham seemed to find joy in your reaction. he knew that you tended to do things in the very last minutes. contrary to popular belief that alhaitham hated handling those kind of students, surprisingly, he ended up going along well with one student from that trope in the akademiya; you.

sometimes, over the past few years, he more often left with how did you even manage to enter the prestigious academy, but he saw how quick you were in doing things efficiently at the very last few minutes—now that he thought of it, it was definitely his bad to think quite lowly of you in the first place—but as someone who was quite an excellent student himself, he scared that the harsh world of knowledge at the akademiya might result in a more devastating ending for you and your study.

it just happened that alhaitham also cared about you more than he thought he would. the sheer thought of you couldn’t further your study at the akademiya gave him slight chills and fear. no, for him to see and supervise you everyday as his ‘student’, he needed to remind you that this bad habit couldn’t last long, especially when everyone around you was greedy enough to obtain new knowledge everyday.

he had already seen worst, of course he didn’t want all bad things happened to you.

“see?” he didn’t move an inch from his position, and god, he was actually distracting you. “this is what i have told you,” he tapped his index finger onto the paper you were currently writing. “—that if you actually followed my instructions and the guidelines, you would not be here until 4 a.m. just to end the report,” you hated how accurate he was, and you admitted that it was your fault for not listening attentively to his briefing about the year-end report he had kindly taught the format last month.

some newer students were complaining about how senior graduates weren’t that much of a help, but you, you were actually so lucky to have alhaitham as the person who took you under his wing. (of course, the first few days weren’t going well due to how you could sense his distaste about all this stupid system of senior-junior thing the akademiya recently incorporated, but literally everyone said you should be thankful to whoever that put you under one of the smartest people in the recent years of akademiya.)

“then why did you insist to join me? i know you’re exhausted and all,” you scoffed. “..and it is nearing 4 a.m,” you didn’t dare to look up once again and met his orange pupils—sometimes, you shrugged off the fact that you might be crushing on him but his eyes were definitely the most beautiful ones you’d ever seen coming from someone else’s—but instead continued to pretend that you were busy thinking to form extensive sentences in your report.

“angel, you need to submit this report by tomorrow, isn’t it?” you almost coughed at the sudden name he called you, and almost dropping your pen right then and there, but you fortunately knew how to contain it well and acted like you didn’t bother by how smooth the word slipped past his throat when he said that. “so, tell me, when should i check your final draft? you need to have my approval first, or the sages will come for you.”

“the most rational timing would be after i have finished my report..” you slapped away all the coming thoughts mentally when you found yourself stuck with him for the past few hours in the library and how suffocating the air was now that you just realised that he did shift his seat to see your progress clearer.

and of course, the manly heat radiating off of him was becoming more evident.

“yes,” he nodded, fully unaware at how even the closeness ticked you off so bad. you were already consumed with guilt, but your brain seemed to stop working because of him, or, because of your exhaustion state. and you needed to act out fast for this report to finish because you didn’t want to burden him with your presence or, wait, was it because you didn’t want to stay with him any longer?

“now that you figured it out,” alhaitham finally stood up straight, but your stomach ultimately dropped when he walked agonizingly slow, seemed like he didn’t feel sleepy as much as you did. “next year, for your thesis, let’s end it in a more systematic way, hm?” 

his lips brushed your flaming cheeks ever so slightly as he whispered those words, but maybe it was just your own illogical thoughts. “because angel, you seem so out of place with me all this time,” he redacted his body away from you, but maybe you were just imagining things because of how dizzy you’d gotten. but his words made you felt like hiding underneath the table because he knew. oh, how unprofessional of you.

he knew. of course he knew all this time. about you, and the report. it was the alhaitham after all.

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